


The Q Who Loved Me

by internetname



Series: From Q, With Love [9]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:09:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/internetname/pseuds/internetname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picard and Q's relationship meets an unexpected and dangerous challenge. This is the final one of this series. (No main character death, or anything. I just had done enough.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Q Who Loved Me

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago under the name Veroneeka. I need to thank the incredible patience and kindness and general wonderfulness of Ruth Gifford, the beta-reader from Heaven.

Jean-Luc Picard awoke and reached across the bed for his husband. Then he reached farther.

His eyes opened and saw Q standing across the room, staring out the window into the near-empty expanse of stars. 

"Q?" 

The dark form between the captain and the stars didn't turn. Seeping from that featureless space was cold despair. 

"Q? What's wrong?" 

The figure didn't turn, didn't look at him. 

"Love? Please..." 

Q turned quickly and walked back to the bed, not stopping until he had Jean-Luc wrapped up in strong, warm arms. Soft kisses traced Picard's ear, and the man pressed tightly against Q's body. His lover shuddered and sighed. 

"Tell me." 

"I love you, Jean-Luc." 

Picard was going to laugh with relief, until he felt that familiar warm rush. What was it about those words when Q spoke them? They'd been mated now for almost two years, relatively speaking, and for over a year in "real" time. 

"It's incredible to hear you say that. Say it again." 

"I love you, Jean-Luc." 

"I love you, Q." Yet as he reached, again he felt that icy grief. "What is it? Can't you tell me?" 

Q spoke softly, his voice muffled against Picard's shoulder. "I want you to have everything you want." 

"I _do._ " 

Q only held him tighter. 

"Is something going to happen?" Picard asked quietly. Q couldn't really see into the future, but his projections had a Q's level of accuracy. When Q didn't respond, Picard hardened his voice a bit. "Is it something I can't know about? Something about Humanity?" 

Q shook his head against the man in his arms. "Until now, I haven't cost you anything important." 

Picard couldn't help smiling. "You've 'cost' me all sorts of important things, Q: my loneliness, my belief I would grow old alone, my worries about not being good enough to deserve love, my fear of letting anyone get too close...to say nothing of my reticence about getting fucked in the ass." 

Picard's chuckle was smothered as Q held him even tighter. He waited through it, not trying to breathe, hoping Q could soon tell him what was wrong and that he could do something about it. 

Q loosened his arms just enough to make the embrace sustainable again. "I haven't yet cost you the thing you love most." 

"You're going to leave me?" It was almost shouted. 

"No!" Q raised his head and glared into his eyes. "Of course not! Never!" 

Picard forced himself to swallow twice, meeting Q's dark gaze. "Then you could never cost me what I love most. _You_ are what I love most." 

Q frowned. "It was what you loved most before I interfered in your life." 

Picard frowned slightly. "My command? You're going to cost me my command?" 

"Yes. I'm sorry. It's quite likely. And even if you don't lose it, it will never be the same." 

"And this will happen soon?" 

"Very." 

Picard kept himself from saying he didn't care. He did care. It was just... 

"I can live with that, Q. I will be able to find other things to do. In fact, I've been thinking about what I will do one day, eventually, when I have to retire. Riker has to be captain _some_ day, after all." 

Q almost smiled. 

"I was hoping that you'd be able to help me think of ways to explore the cosmos. I rather had the impression that you were waiting to show me things." 

"I am." Q's eyes went to the window. "I have an infinity of things to show you, my beloved." He frowned and looked back into Picard's face. "But that's for later, after you've lived the life you had planned for yourself." 

"It's part of being Human to allow for changes in one's plans, Q. Besides, without you, I'd be dead by now." 

"Don't joke about it!" 

"I'm not joking! You have completely disrupted my life since I met you at Farpoint, and I'm glad about every moment of it, even the Borg and being Robin Hood, because they've brought me you. Don't you understand? You want to me to have what I want? _You_ are what I want." 

Picard had reached his hand behind Q's head and pulled him down for a deep kiss. He couldn't help thinking about how good they'd gotten at kissing each other. Q's mouth fit perfectly against his, those full lips to his thinner ones, the pressure between them passionate but not bruising, their tongues moving with confidence and skill into the familiar warmth of the other. 

_Let's spend a whole day sometime soon,_ he thought into Q's equally warm and familiar mind, _just kissing each other._

Q shuddered and moaned into Picard's mouth. _I'd never last it._ His hands had gone to the man's pale pink nipples, stroking gently. _But we need to keep talking. There's so much more to say._

_Yes, there is._ Picard rolled over suddenly, taking Q with him and grabbing his hands. He held them down to the bed and straddled his mate and smiled. "I need to tell you how much I love you." 

Q smiled back as his eyes glittered. 

"And that I have no intention of losing my command without a fight, against whatever challenge awaits us -- and no, I don't want you to tell me what it is." 

Q nodded. He'd known that, of course, but it was nice to have Picard confirm it. 

"And I also need to ask you what you would most like me to do to you right now." Picard's eyes shone with delight as his fingertips ran lightly over Q's chest. "Fuck you? Let you fuck me? Take you in my mouth? Fist you? Kiss you from your head to your toes? Suck on your nipples until you come?" 

"The call from Starfleet is coming in in less than a minute." 

"Starfleet? This has to do with Starfleet?" 

Despair crept back into Q's eyes. "I'm so sorry." 

Picard's computer beeped. He didn't look towards the doorway to his front room, bending down to press his forehead against Q's. "I meant what I said, do you understand? I don't care what this is about. I love you." 

"I love you too, Jean-Luc." 

Slowly, Picard bent down to kiss Q, hard and deep, then made to leave him on the bed when Q grabbed him and dragged him back until he was lying on Q's body, covering him completely. Picard felt Q move them out of time. 

"Kiss me again, first." 

Working at it just a bit, he accepted Q's temporal stall. _I'll do whatever you like. Just stop being so frightened._

_Can't help it._ Q grabbed his hands and put them to his own chest, then wrapped Picard up tight and rolled them over so that he was weighing the man's body back into the bed. His hips pressed down hard, and Jean-Luc felt his body respond instinctively to the pressure, developing fully the erection he'd been close to for the last several minutes. Q's tongue was now tickling his throat, his fingers twisting his nipples tightly, his low groans rumbling through them both. 

_You said you would do what I most wanted. Did you mean it?_

_Of course. Forever. Whatever._

Q groaned even more loudly and reached down to Picard's legs, raising them up against his chest. The man nodded and relaxed his muscles, easily able to tell that Q wasn't in the mood to wait. Slick fingers gently but quickly prepared him, and then Q's eyes opened with a fervent stare as he positioned himself, shuddering. 

The lights in the room turned brighter, and the sheets had been pushed well back. Picard felt completely on display before that dark, burning glare, and for a second it made him feel uncomfortably exposed. Then, putting the love he felt into his eyes, he spread his arms out wide and arched his back, saying with a voice thick with the depth of his feelings: 

"You know I was made for you to fuck." 

Q shuddered and seemed in danger of coming. Picard didn't reach out, didn't try to control this in any way. Q wanted assurance here more than sex. Jean-Luc was riveted with the need to provide it. 

_Tell me I can fuck you forever._

"You _can_ fuck me forever." 

_Tell me my cock in your ass is all you want._

Picard hesitated. "You are all I want, Q, but I want all of you." 

Another shuddering groan, and Q moved forward firmly, pressing himself as deeply as he could inside Jean-Luc's body until he was completely buried, his straining, tightened sac pressed against Picard's cleft. He kept moving, however, by pressing the rest of himself to Picard, wrapping him tightly again in his arms, lowering his head until they were kissing deeply again. The man pressed back as best he could with his mouth, his arms, his whole body. Indeed, Picard created an image in his mind of simply being wrapped around Q, completely enfolding him while he held Q inside him, surrounding him with his body and his love. 

_I hate it. I hate it that I will cause you pain. I can't stand the idea of it._

Picard pressed back even harder. _You aren't going to. If Starfleet has a problem with us, then_ they're _going to cause us_ both _pain. Are you saying what we have isn't worth it?_

_Are you going to pretend this isn't going to change us?_

Picard smiled into the sustained kiss, light-headed from lack of oxygen. _Everything will change us. We have eternity to be changed over and over. But as long as I am myself, I will love you, Q._

Finally, Picard felt some of Q's fear abate, and the entity again raised his head to look down at his lover, this time with a smile that would melt an interstellar comet. Slowly, he looked over Picard's body, the extreme exposure of his position, the way his legs were spread out, his back arched, his skin slick with sweat, his eyes full of love, and then Q opened his mind and let Picard feel his simple astonishment that Picard would allow this, would let Q fuck him like this, an astonishment two relative years together had done nothing to diminish. 

Instead of thrusting with his body, Q allowed his mind to work over and over again that incredulity which so excited him, pushing down into his mate the arousal he felt as a tangible force. 

_Look at your legs,_ Q crooned into his mind as his hands ran up and down the strong muscles of Jean-Luc's stretched thighs. _Look at your arms. Gorgeous. Mine._

_All yours._

_Your nipples. Have I told you how much I love them?_

Picard moaned, overwhelmed by feeling Q's lust mingled with his own. He was pushing back now, mentally, filling Q with his own arousal at being filled and adored. 

_Look at your face. So strong and full of your character, your strength, so beautiful._

"All yours," Picard gasped out, feeling wound too tight to breathe. "Just like you're mine." 

Q forced himself to speak as well: "My cock is yours. Look at it in your ass. Feel it --" 

Picard screamed with need and frustration, and finally Q moved, hard, deep inside him, then pulled back almost to his tip before he thrust even harder inside. As often as they joined, there was still some pain, faint, buried inside the man's enforced convulsions of pleasure. He could feel that Q was thinking only of fucking him, that he was doing just that without mercy. Yet Picard felt no fear, felt nothing at all except the pressure and heat turning his whole body and consciousness once more into a creation made for this purpose and no other. Every movement his body had known had taught him how to move now. Every event of his experience had readied him to accept this delectation of body and soul. 

And still it was almost too much. When Q had him like this, brought him to the edge like this, he could survive only by relaxing everything he had and simply feeling as Q pounded into him. It had taken him so long to learn this, and it was only Q who could help him to be like this, to be nothing but what they felt together. So many of his trained instincts screamed even now not to let go, not to trust, not to lie there with his mouth gaping and sucking in air while his spread legs were pushed back with Q's weight almost to the mattress. His muscles hurt. His mouth was dry. His rectum burned with friction. The pleasure blocked it all out. He wasn't on fire. He _was_ fire. 

And still the motion, in and out of him, continued. Completely, he submitted. If Q wanted to do this to him forever, he would comply. 

Forcing his eyes open, he watched his lover sweat and labor over him, each muscle working in joined rhythm to thrust his blood-heavy cock inside him. Q was holding Picard's legs back, hands splayed against his thighs, and his arms were shaking. He was groaning, and his lips were back from his teeth in a manner which could easily be grotesque, except that it was fiercely beautiful. 

"Beautiful," Picard breathed even as his body took in those thrusts, held aloft by pleasure, completed and filled and burning. His consciousness seemed now disconnected from everything but this moment. "I love you so much, Q." 

The body atop him shuddered but kept thrusting, and then he felt Q _twist_ his thoughts, and he came, hard, screaming and dazzled. It went on and on, and he knew, dimly, that Q was waiting to see if he would make Q come as well, and end this. 

But he didn't. No, arms outspread, legs open, body and soul exposed, Picard just took it all. Another orgasm crashed over him, and he knew nothing but light and heat, and then another climax hit, and even the tangible sensations were starting to ebb. There was only happiness, only joy, only Q. He was dimly aware now of a sort of specter of eternity, a never-ending bliss of sinister power. 

He smiled into that vortex and offered to let it fuck him as well. 

Q came, and Picard heard the words in his head: 

_I was made for this too. I didn't exist before you let me touch you._

And then the bliss and heat and light were still Q, and that was all Jean-Luc knew for a very, very long time. 

  
Q had never been part of a staff meeting before. 

He'd been conscious of them as Picard held them, of course, and he'd interrupted a couple of them, but he'd never before been on the agenda. He couldn't help noticing how casual the others were with him now, and how it was that same casualness which allowed him to participate. 

Since their first visit with Ahtaru and T-hon, he and Jean-Luc had become -- not demonstrative, exactly, but more relaxed about their relationship in front of the command crew. In response, the senior staff had worked hard to accept Q into their sense of what the Enterprise life was like. Now that Deanna and Will were about to be married, the whole room was practically cozy with domesticity, and Q couldn't decide if he liked that or wanted to hang himself. 

_Oh, let me stop time again and you can fuck me._

_Will you please relax? I need to talk to my crew, and you need to listen._

Q grit his teeth and watched Troi and Riker settle, noting involuntarily the familiar tell-tale signs of two people who'd rather be alone together. 

"I'm afraid the Enterprise has been called off its mapping mission and ordered to report immediately to Starfleet Command." 

"Earth, sir?" Riker asked as everyone grew somewhat still. 

"Earth." He took a breath, composing. "It seems that Starfleet has recently been informed of my 'inappropriate' relationship with an untrustworthy lifeform capable of mass destruction. I would seem to have misused the power of position to seek an alliance which violates the spirit of several Federation mores, including the Prime Directive." 

"That's ridiculous," Riker snorted. 

"Captain," Data said, "I would be most appreciative if you could explain to me how a personal relationship is any of Starfleet's business." 

Picard raised his eyebrows, but before he could speak, Crusher mused aloud, "They must have known about you and Q for some time now. I wonder what's happened back home. Is someone trying to get promoted, or divert attention from something?" 

"A good scandal has been used in the politics of most humanoid civilizations to divert unwelcome attention," Troi agreed. "The War with the Dominion has already brought to light several instances of misuse of power at Command." 

"Whatever's got them wound up, I still want to know where they think they get off," LaForge groused. "This is worse than when they wouldn't let us fight the Borg. You'd think that'd have learned how things work by now." 

"So what's the game plan?" Riker asked, looking, like everyone else in the room, only at Picard until that expression Q was struggling to get off his face disappeared. 

"Well, so far," the captain said, "I've been told these are nothing more than inquiries, though I have also been advised it might be in my best interests to seek counsel." 

Everyone except Q blinked and shifted. 

"Have you selected anyone yet, sir?" Data asked. 

Picard clicked through the same dozen names again. He couldn't make it one of his command staff, not when they'd become a part of his relationship with Q. He had thought about old friends, but then, to have to explain to them how he felt about Q seemed worse than talking to Starfleet. He thought of having to tell his story to someone he didn't know at all, and cringed. 

"You should get Austen," Q announced, his expression schooled now as everyone turned to him. 

"Helm?" Picard asked. 

Q nodded. "She's got the right kind of mind for it, and the right sort of background. She's not into Starfleet politics, and she already knows a lot of the details." 

Picard hesitated a moment, thinking, then looked up just slightly. "Picard to Lieutenant Austen." 

"Austen here, sir." 

"Would you join us in the conference room?" 

"On my way, sir." 

"So what is it exactly they have a problem with?" Crusher asked as the doors opened and Austen walked through. 

"Several things," Picard began, indicating with his hand that Austen should take a seat, looking at her for the first time to see more than his reliable and quick-to-action pilot. 

"First, Starfleet is worried that I may be under Q's influence in some other way than the strictly emotional. Second, they are concerned that I have entered into a relationship with an entity that in my own logs I have described as "dangerous", "untrustworthy," and "deceitful." 

"Foreplay," Q mumbled, his heart obviously not in it. 

"Thirdly, they have 'difficulties' understanding why I didn't report the relationship officially, they want to know exactly what sort of relationship it is, and finally," his voice became slightly tighter, "they have 'qualms' about any man's ability to resist the temptation and corruption that Q's powers offer." 

While the command staff digested that, Picard met Austen's eyes. "I have been advised to seek a representative in this matter." She frowned in some confusion and he held up a hand. "This request I'm making is strictly a request. If you have any reasons not to wish to be my counsel, you may decline with no questions asked and no negative repercussions whatsoever." 

Several quiet seconds passed. "You want me to represent you, sir?" she asked. "At Starfleet Command?" 

"Yes, but only if you wish to." 

"Why, sir? If I may ask." 

"Q suggested it and I...like the idea." 

"Well, I guess it does save briefing time," she said with a sideways look at Q, "but I will still need to know more, won't I?" 

"Doubtlessly." The slightest hint of humor appeared. 

"But you do understand...I mean, I took a few classes at the Academy, but I have no experience in this sort of thing." 

"You used to stand up for your brother in juvenile court," Q noted dryly. 

Austen looked at him a moment, then smiled reluctantly. "That was a bit different." 

"The principle's the same." 

The smile relaxed slightly. 

"So what sort of hearings are these going to be, exactly?" Riker asked. "Or didn't they say?" 

"Strictly informal, to begin with." Picard scowled. "The message itself was an odd blend of formality and vague phrases." 

"This isn't the sort of problems Command is used to dealing with," Troi said. "They're doubtless struggling to be official in an area traditionally designated as unofficial." She paused thoughtfully. "That could be used against them." 

"I'd rather work _with_ them as much as possible," the captain said. 

"But who exactly is 'Them' this time?" LaForge complained. "You know there are going to be some people who won't touch this with plasma shields." 

"And others who will see it as an opportunity to 'win' over the Q," Riker put in. "There are still many desk-bound report readers in Command who resent the simple existence of the Q. Well, we all have contacts in Command, and it will take a week to reach Earth at top warp. I suggest we all find out whatever we can about what's really going on before we reach home." 

Picard nodded, working now himself on keeping his expression in check. "That will give Lieutenant Austen and me time for some interviews." 

"I will also need to speak to Q," she said, looking carefully at the entity again. 

Q shrugged. 

"When you're not pumping old friends for information," Picard said, putting his hands flat on the conference table, "I'd like to take this opportunity to run diagnostics on all our main systems and their back-ups. I've been noticing a slight decrease in response time in switch-overs during battle drills." 

"Data and I have been working on that, sir," LaForge said, frowning. "It has something to do with those system upgrades we got at Starbase 15. The diagnostics will be a great help." 

"Good." Picard nodded and the meeting broke up, the captain standing as everyone except Q and Austen exited. 

"I should do a lot of reading first," she said quietly, hoping she wasn't saying something too stupid. "Right now all I can offer is prurient curiosity." 

"Like Starfleet's gaggle of admirals has anything different going on?" Q scoffed. "Look, let me help you with the really hard stuff: it's romantic and it's sexual. I do take us to different times and places. I never use my powers to interfere with ship's business." 

"But would you? To save Captain Picard?" 

Q smiled just slightly. "I don't have to worry about that one any more." 

She frowned and looked at Picard, who looked slightly uncomfortable. "I'm not exactly...mortal anymore." 

Her eyes widened. "That...will doubtlessly be used against you, sir." 

Shoulders slightly curved against resignation, he nevertheless firmed his mouth. "Then I will need to convince them it makes no difference to my command." 

"Begging your pardon, sir, but how can the fact that you're not going to die _not_ change your command?" 

"Because my life, here, this life on the Enterprise, is as dear to me as living ever was. When the time comes, when I have to leave here, then I want to be with Q, but until then, the thought of losing my command of this ship makes me just as desperate, just as determined, as the thought of losing my life ever did." 

Austen stared at him, her eyes kindling with an idea. Then she shook her head slightly. "I really have a lot of reading to do. If I might be excused from Bridge duty for this week, sir...?" 

"Of course. Inform Commander Riker I've authorized it." 

"Yes, sir." She nodded at him, then at Q, then left. 

Jean-Luc looked at Q, and Q looked back, for a long moment, then the man took Q's hands and walked him to the window, turned, and held Q's hands in place around him as he looked out at the stars. 

Q watched the small points of light, idly counting the nano-second gamma radiation flashes in the upper UH scale, then closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the top of his husband's head. 

  
Lieutenant Austen had no idea why the thought of defending the captain in court was making her feel so energized. 

It wasn't much of a case, and was likely to end in complete disaster. From what she had read in the message Picard got, someone at Command had a major burr up their butt, and while Picard could have been an admiral years ago, he had elected to remain a captain. He was outranked and outgunned and she was right in the line of fire. 

And somehow, instead of making her regret her acceptance of the assignment, she just seemed to get charged thinking about it. 

Perhaps it was the injustice. Picard was a wonderful captain. Like most of the bridge crew, she was fiercely devoted to him, never mind that she wasn't part of the "inner circle." She didn't even mind comments from other pilots about how she couldn't fill Wes Crusher's shoes or inquiries about whether she minded the "Enterprise Pilot Curse" that had claimed Ro and Hawke. 

Or perhaps it was the ridiculousness of the charges. Certainly, many a commander had been brought down by an inappropriate relationship, but it wasn't usually in such a formal setting, and it didn't usually involve the lack of any actual harm or crime. The charges against Picard read as though he were consorting with the enemy, except that Q wasn't their enemy. There were also vague references to "abuses of power and position," as well as a suggestion that Picard's mental faculties might be impaired. He was to report to Starfleet medical upon his arrival for a full psychological evaluation -- or, at least, he had been ordered to do so. Austen had already put in her request for a holding order. Last time she checked -- about an hour ago -- Counselor Troi was still a fully accredited psychiatrist, psychologist, and psycho-therapist, and she had already been instructed to appear at the hearing. 

With the help of the command staff she had managed to learn a great deal that hadn't been included in Starfleet communiqué, including the fact that the admiral who had actually signed the order, Admiral Van Jos, was not really all that involved with the investigation itself. That fell primarily under the purview of Counselor Gonenne, whose dossier she was still trying to obtain, and Rear Admiral Harrison, whose authority included at least the known functionings of Starfleet Intelligence. 

She was beginning to believe that Intelligence's own authority might explain a great deal of the leeway given to this investigation. It made sense, however, that Intelligence be involved when the claims against Picard and Q's relationship involved the matter of security. 

Austen was fairly certain of Command's strategy so far. They wanted to separate Picard from his crew, make him feel vulnerable and exposed, so that he or Q would then show their hand. Someone on the opposing team wanted to prove that her captain's relationship had changed him too much to take it anymore. 

She couldn't help smiling as she previewed her notes, even though her stomach was currently one big mass of knots. The mere idea of someone thinking they could push Picard past his limits with a hearing -- she even chuckled slightly. Part of her was going to enjoy this. It was just like when her brother -- 

The sound was cut off when her door chimed. 

_Showtime,_ she thought, standing up from her desk and straightening her uniform before calling: "Come." 

Despite using the door chime, Q didn't use the door. 

"Hello, Q," she said, voice mostly steady. The entity looked...pissed-off. 

"Well, you haven't done much so far. The hearing is in three days." 

Austen didn't answer, looking up a tall red-and-black-clad body into eyes that seemed almost bloodshot, and were certainly tired. 

"Does your physical appearance accurately reflect your...nature and health?" she asked, expecting any moment to be turned into a small toad. 

Q's eyes narrowed. "Yes." 

"Is the hearing hurting your relationship with Captain Picard?" 

"What a stupid question!" 

"Then it should be easy to answer." 

The toad became a very real possibility in Austen's mind before Q finally shrugged and turned away to look out the window. She found herself reminded distinctly of her captain. "Of course it's hurting our relationship. He was just getting comfortable with his command staff knowing and the rest of the crew guessing. Now he has to make official reports! Now he has to describe it." 

"Describe what? That fact that you're together? The things you say to each other? The sex?" 

Q winced. 

"Starfleet Command can do a lot of things, Q, but they can't ask what happens in the bedroom." 

Q turned to her with scorn, leaning against the bulkhead with his arms crossed. 

"But it's what everyone is thinking about." 

"Why are you doing this?" 

Q frowned. 

"Why are you allowing me to question you? Why are you going through all this?" 

Q snorted. "Because it's necessary." 

"To stay with Captain Picard, you mean?" Q didn't bother to answer. "Why not just snap your fingers and take care of it?" Q looked at her. "I'm only asking questions you're going to be asked at the hearing, Q, and unless you want to hurt more than you help, you're going to have to answer." 

Q took in a breath, held it, let it out. "I've never cheated." 

"You've never cheated on the captain?" 

Thunderclouds gathered. "No...well, of course I haven't cheated _on_ him, but that's not what I said. I've never cheated in the relationship. Never gone back and undone something he didn't like, never changed reality on him, never...influenced him." 

"Ah." She nodded and wished she could sit down. "That's going to be the crux of the inquiry, you know, whether you've snapped your fingers to get into his...good graces." 

Q raised an eyebrow at her. "You're just determined to have some girl talk, aren't you?" 

"You look like a man who isn't sleeping." 

"Forget it." 

She took in and held her own breath a moment, then let it out. "It is absolutely essential that you two face this together, that you seem to have a good relationship, that you...impress them with your...rapport." 

Q fumed at her. 

"Look, you step into the hearing with that expression and their case will be halfway won. Can't you just give me an _idea_ of what --" 

"Equality." 

She blinked. "Explain, please." 

"Our entire relationship is based on equality." 

"In the face of an obvious inequality," she added. 

"On whose side?" 

She opened her mouth, then closed it and smiled slightly. "I see. You two compensate for the other." 

He nodded stiffly. 

"And so you have to work hard to keep that equality going?" 

Another nod. 

"And that includes expressions of intimacy?" 

"That includes sex, yes." 

"And lately, what? Things aren't equal?" 

Q positively squirmed. "I can't talk about this with you." 

"Fine. This isn't my thing, as you well know. Counselor Troi would really be the best --" 

"No!" 

"I thought the two of you were getting to be friends." 

"We _are._ " 

She nodded. "If I win this, I'm going to be asking for a transfer to something more culturally or diplomatically oriented. That probably means off the Enterprise. And you wouldn't have picked me in the first place if you didn't know that I can keep a secret." 

Q gave her something of a loaded look. 

"Look, if Captain Picard has you sleeping on the sofa, that's going to affect --" 

"I'm not sleeping on the sofa! At least that would be something!" 

Austen became aware that the hair on the back of her neck was crackling as though from static electricity. 

Q tried taking another deep breath, but he couldn't hold it long. "It's all so delicate, don't you understand? The balance, the consequences, having his command and me together, and his mortal privacy while I -- the Continuum ex-outcast who's always been easy to sneer at --" 

"Q, I'm never going to be able to _guess_ what's wrong." He stared at her, expression unreadable. "Wait -- are you giving me hints? Have you lost your equality?" 

Q's eyes dropped, and when he spoke she had to strain to hear. "I -- we both sometimes feel the need to...dominate, to possess, to..." 

"I get the idea. To be what the Klingons would call 'the aggressor.'" 

"One more Klingon comparison and this conversation is over." 

"Sorry. Sorry." She smiled just slightly. "So you take turns being in command, shall we say, to keep the equality going." Q went back to looking at her again. "But recently?" More staring. She sighed. "Are you saying that one of you has stopped letting the other be on top?" 

"You say that like you're ordering dinner." 

"Q, one of the reasons you picked me has got to be that my parents are both prostitutes." 

"Actually, your brother's constant troubles had more to do with it." 

"But now he's in prison." 

"He deserves to be. And you kept him out a lot longer than anyone else could." 

"So who won't let go of the dominant position?" 

Q struggled, looked away. "I've always been a bit...frantic." 

She was careful not to smile. "And he resents this new lack of equality?" 

"No! That's just it! He's so...accommodating! Or, he was, before I...pulled away." 

"Because you felt like he was humoring you?" Q snorted. "Or you're worried he's not telling you that he's getting resentful?" 

Q's eyes shifted. 

"Don't you read his mind?" 

"Yes." 

"And so wouldn't you know --" 

"We're growing equal that way as well." 

Her eyes widened as she sank into her chair, placing her hands on unsteady knees. "Captain Picard's mental abilities are becoming equal with a Q's?" 

"Of course not!" 

"But you said --" 

"I'm not going to explain the details of our mental joining to you!" 

"But that's precisely what you're going to have to explain, or Starfleet Command is going to be able to make a case that he's been so changed by you that he's no longer the man to whom they gave command of the Enterprise, and that will be it!" 

Q looked ready to vomit, more bothered by this than the talk of actual sex, then grated out: "I make things equal for us before we begin." 

"So when he interacts mentally with you, it's on a level a human can stand?" 

"Yes." 

"So if he were trying to hide his resentment, you might not know?" Q shrugged, and she thought a moment. 

"Sometimes," he murmured, eyes daring her to comment, "we show everything we are to the other." 

"And you haven't done that because you're afraid of what you'll find?" Q flinched this time. "So, no joining and no sex. No wonder you look so bad." 

Q's eyes dropped again. "I _hate_ this." 

She stood, hands on her hips. "Q, you can't go into the courtroom this way. You're supposed to know everything. Fix it, or be ready for them to tear you apart." 

"'Fix it?' That's your great advice?" 

"Q, try to imagine it: some admiral in your face asking you if in the middle of sexual climax with Captain Picard you haven't messed around in his head. You blow your cool and the Enterprise is hosting a retirement party." She paused, aware that she was breathing heavily. "If it's fear doing this, how can you face it? Whatever the risk, I promise you, it's worth it!" 

Q looked at her scathingly, but she saw the idea sparkling inside, his attention starting to shift. 

"I need to understand how you maintain enough objectivity to know for certain that Captain Picard hasn't been changed." 

"I have it because it wish to have it, and I monitor him very closely." 

"And he knows that?" 

"Yes." 

"Would you save the life of a crewmember to protect him?" 

"No. And in the time we've been together seventeen Enterprise crew have been killed in the line of duty." 

"Would you have saved them if he'd asked?" 

"He wouldn't ask." 

"Are you married in the eyes of the Continuum?" 

"He's officially recognized as my mate." 

"That must have taken some doing." 

"An outcome of saving Amanda." Q snapped, but instead of flashing out, he held a padd in one hand. He passed it to her. "Taken out all the good bits, of course," he leered slightly, an obvious sign he was feeling better. "But it still makes good reading, particularly the dashing Wizard Qualen." 

And then he did flash out, and, after getting herself a glass of cold water, Austen sat down to peruse a sword and sorcery epic, taking quite some time before she realized exactly what she was reading. 

  
Q sat in the dark of the captain's quarters for three hours before his husband entered, his hands full of data padds as he stood outlined in the doorway. 

"Q?" 

"Come into the room and let the door close." 

Picard stepped forward, feeling just those simple words make his face hot. 

"You're so beautiful." 

The man was going to say something, but then dropped to his knees with a moan as the padds fell to the floor with a soft, sliding clatter. Q's eyes glittered, watching, as Jean-Luc tried to speak again, and, shuddering violently, fell back, catching himself on his hands as he moaned again, gutturally, arched back with a cry, and landed now on the floor, writhing. 

He was nothing but desire, nothing but longing. Dimly, he remembered the first and last time Q had done this: right after they'd become lovers. Q had touched his chest and filled him directly with pure emotional need. But this seemed more intense, more concentrated with the need for Q inside him. He would have been frightened or concerned, but it had been days now without Q's touch, and he knew his lover wouldn't do this except as prelude to touching him. He opened his mouth to beg, but nothing made it past his next visceral groan. 

His legs were almost flailing now, and he realized he was using his position to rub his straining and leaking erection against his uniform, just as Q stepped into his field of vision. His husband was naked and aroused and looking at him hungrily. Picard answered by spreading his legs and arching his back even further. 

Slowly, Q knelt between his legs and looked him over. The desire and need Jean-Luc felt in each part of his body increased wherever Q's eyes gazed upon him, and he found himself moving into that look as he would into a caress. 

"Please," he managed to whisper, his hands fumbling at his uniform fastenings. 

_Jean-Luc, if you do anything besides lay there and take it, I'm going to tie you up._

Picard groaned and trembled as his hands fell to the floor, then screamed hoarsely as the lust in his body rose higher still. He felt crazed with it, and realized he was now thrusting against the constriction of his uniform. 

The room simply fell away. When Picard saw the glare, he thought at first they were in their white room, but eventually he saw that there was nothing else but the light here, nothing but white space, like the time Q spoke to him before they went to Starbase Earhart. In that featureless expanse he felt completely on display, and somehow pinned like a butterfly, held up for inspection. He also felt more than a little powerless. He didn't like it, but the emotion could do little to stop the desire he felt. 

He thought of resenting this. He thought of telling Q to stop. He tried to separate himself from the sensations in his body and realized that he was embarrassed and uncomfortable. 

But then he looked into Q's eyes and saw the incredible need there, the need for him and only him, and everything but that desire for Q, to give Q whatever he wanted, fell away to leave him truly exposed. He was glad it was difficult to be here like this. He looked forward to having his clothes removed, his body entered, his mind plundered. He wanted it to be harder still. He wanted it to cost everything he had. He wanted Q to understand. 

And then finally Q's hands were moving towards him, first gliding along his stomach and chest, and then opening his uniform along a Y-seam he made from the neck to each pant cuff. The man gasped at the coolness of the air washing over him, then again when warm hands touched him, softly just at first, then with increasing firmness, moving over his skin as possessively as he could hope for. Fingers pressed into his nipples, ran over his stomach, curled over his flanks, ripped the last of the uniform away, exposing him, caressing him. 

"Mmmmmm, yes," Jean-Luc sighed, aware that the floor was soft instead of hard, and covered in something cool and smooth like a white satin sheet. His hazel eyes glittered in the white light as he pulled his legs, drawn together when Q removed his uniform, far apart, inviting even as he felt the air and light on his skin. "Yes, Q. Whatever you want. Yes, oh yes." 

Q leaned over him, hands to either side, and bent his head down to tease his nipples, sharing with him further the desire and needs he felt, listening with satisfaction to Picard's increasingly frantic sounds. 

"You know what I want," he whispered between licks of the tight pink nubs. "I want what you're readying yourself for. How often have I opened you? So sweet inside. And all mine." 

"Yours. Whenever you want me. However. Where -- ohhhhhh!" 

Q had slipped down to take Picard's delicious cock into his mouth. So thick and straight, so soft and right this minute incredibly hard. Since there was no danger now of Picard's being able to come until Q allowed it, he took his time enjoying this private part of his lover. He tongued the slit and enjoyed the moisture it released. He ran the tip of his tongue around the rim of the head, then took the shaft in hand and sucked on his tight sac, pulling the balls into his mouth to caress them. Picard was moving against him now, involuntarily seeking more than Q was giving. 

Smiling to himself, Q slicked up a finger and plunged it deep inside his lover's perfect opening, chuckling quietly as Jean-Luc moaned and pressed down against the invader. He shoved in another finger, working the muscle roughly, then released him with a final hard, deep suck and sat up straight. 

"Yes, fuck me," the man pleading, eyes wild now. "So hard I can't sit down for days." 

"What will the admirals think?" 

Picard laughed, chuffing, his body arching in a protest as Q didn't move into him. "That I've got a lover who does what I want." 

"Is this what you want?" Q murmured as he pressed his tip to the center of Picard's body, holding himself there with one hand while the other took his hand. 

"Oh, yes." 

Q paused, and Picard could feel him wondering if this were enough. 

"What else can I do?" the man rasped. "Tell me what you want, and I'll do it." 

And then, even as his dark eyes filled with tears, Q laughed. "I can't think of anything else. I don't want to hurt you or humiliate you, I just...want..." 

"I know," Jean-Luc whispered. "I _understand._ " And then he reached down, slowly, to his own slick and trembling erection and began to touch himself, lightly, his eyes looking past Q's eyes now, staring inside him. 

Q groaned and reached for Picard's spread thighs. "Yes," he said in his most menacing voice, completely unaware of the love that shined plainly on his face. "Don't stop. If you stop, so will I." 

Picard nodded and continued caressing himself as Q slid his hands under his thighs and pulled those legs over his lap. Q gave his lover a moment to realize what would happen, then guided himself again to that opening and pushed himself inside firmly, pumping until he was buried. The pale, strong body shuddered all down its length, and Q moaned. 

Spreading his own legs, he bent over the body as it accepted him, and pumped into that tight, hot space until the movements became easy and gliding, then he leaned back, grabbed him again under his thighs, watching Picard's strong hand continue its strokes. Then he raised him up again and used his arms to drive Jean-Luc up around his cock, thrusting forward slightly with his hips, then again, and again, using his powers a little to keep from getting tired. The slick satin on the floor let the compact body slide easily back and forth, and he was pounding inside him now over and over. Picard began to shout: 

"Yes! Oh! Oh, yes! So -- oh! Deep inside me. Oh! Yes! Oh, love this, love this! Fuck me. Like this. Forever!" 

Q responded by increasing the pace, and Picard lost the ability to speak, grunting and shivering with pleasure, his eyes long since rolled back and closed. 

And now Q let himself truly feel how good this was. So hot and tight, as his lover always was, spread out and offered up, that velvet voice making music, and now...yes, now it was time. 

Q dropped his barriers and flung his consciousness into Picard's mind, as hot and uncontrolled as the cum he would soon be releasing inside his body. His possessive fury, his need to control, to guarantee, to be assured over and over all pounded into his lover's bright soul even as the man's back arched into that continuous motion against and around Q's cock. The man's trapped legs kicked out at the knees as he clawed the satin sheet and gasped, and Q waited for whatever else would come, preparing himself to understand, to accept, to love whatever Picard could give him. 

But when the Human opened his mind and let his own consciousness burst inside his lover's mind, Q laughed and joyfully pounded inside at the angle he knew would bring the most pleasure. 

Surprised again. 

Picard was being so easily dominated because he felt the same way, wanted to treat Q as a possession he could fuck with the complete security that he and his body were welcomed. Rather than resenting Q's need, he was relieved by it, and laughed with Q, as they were moving together in body and mind. Filled with the boiling swell of fresh love, Picard reached out to merge. 

_Are you sure, my love?_ Q warned. _The hearing..._

Picard pressed harder, and Q dropped his half-hearted protest even as he removed his husband's hand from his own erection and continued the stimulation with hot caresses of his mind. 

"Now! Yes!" Picard barked, and Q dropped his control over both of them, plunging one last time into his body as his mind swam into the complete embrace that was Picard and became Picard/Q. 

_We are each other and each other's, my love._

  
“Enter, please," Counselor Troi said right before the door could chime, fully aware of who was standing outside and why she was there. 

"Thank you for seeing me, Commander," Austen said as she came in, clutching a padd and looking around. 

"Please, call me Deanna. Would you like something to drink?" 

"Some coffee would be nice." 

Troi moved to the replicator while Austen sat. 

"You've only been here once," Troi commented as she moved back to her usual chair and held out one of the coffees in her hands to her guest. "When you were first assigned to the Enterprise." She smiled. "I had a feeling I wouldn't be seeing much of you." 

Austen shrugged. "I had to deal with my problems early on, I guess." 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

Austen laughed. "Not particularly, though I suppose I have been thinking about it a lot the past few days." 

Troi looked at her, not using her professional "I'm listening" face, just looking. 

"I'm fairly certain, whatever he says about my brother, that the main reason Q felt he could handle having me know details about his relationship with the captain is that I'm simply unshockable when it comes to sex. I worked, you realize, in the houses until I was thirteen." 

"Yes." 

She shrugged. "I was basically a towel-girl, sometimes a bath attendant, but I had on the uniform that let everyone know I was off-limits. My parents worked in good places, even if I did grow up on a non-Fed world. People left me alone. What I saw would bother me, I guess, sometimes, but I saw it every day, and I never had to work a place that did anything illegal." 

Troi restrained herself from making a comment about the legal system of Heptav Prime, and watched as Austen's eyes got a little unfocused with thought. "I suppose I should have felt weird about some of it. Some things that people do -- do you know what a golden shower is?" 

Troi nodded. 

"Well, things like that were the hardest, because..." Mischief danced in her eyes a moment. "You see, my problem wasn't that I was bothered or made uncomfortable, it's that I thought it was so _funny._ I was always laughing, always losing it. I ruined more scenes -- I can't tell you how many. Finally, I got taken out of the rooms and put in charge of transporting people to and fro, and that eventually led to my learning how to fly more then hover-cars and shuttles. My parents were wonderfully supportive. I really feel quite untraumatized, I assure you." Her eyes darkened suddenly. "Which is why it bothers me." 

Troi frowned. "What bothers you?" 

"That Q picked me. That Captain Picard wanted me as well. I mean, Q must have said something..." She shook herself. "I'm not making sense, am I?" 

"I can tell you're worried about the captain and Q." 

Austen's eyes narrowed now. "How do you do it, anyway?" 

"Do what?" 

"Live with them on this ship? The emotional...vibes must kill you." 

Troi smiled. "Q shields me, somewhat." 

"Ah. Yes. That would be helpful." She thought, drinking half her coffee, of the way Q's eyes slid over to Picard whenever the captain said something meaningful of humorous, of the way Q sometimes obviously tempered his speech to avoid being as insulting as his instincts seemed to prompt him to be, of the way they seemed to have to add extra words to their sentences when they talked to her, evidently used to speaking to each other and being so much more easily understood. "I don't think I've ever seen two people love each other more -- and I can only see it in glimpses or indirectly when they say things they don't quite seem to realize give them away." 

"They're both protective of how they feel," Troi probed. 

"Yes," Austen said. "That's it exactly." Troi frowned and she sighed. "Q felt the need to get someone who can't be shocked by their relationship, because he and, I'm assuming, Captain Picard expect people to be shocked." 

Troi nodded now. 

"They think they're being kinky and weird," Austen complained. "They think there's something wrong with how they feel about each other. They tell themselves they don't think that, that it's only _other_ people who think that, but no one's that cut off from their society. No one runs around thinking everyone thinks they're a criminal if they don't have _some_ suspicion they're guilty of something. Right?" 

Troi shrugged, then relented. "That's a valid point." 

Austen chuffed angrily. "Makes me mad." 

Troi raised her eyebrows. 

"You know, growing up in a whorehouse, you learn an awful lot about the different kinds of sex there are." 

"So I imagine." 

"No, no. I don't mean positions and nipple clamps, I mean...the motivations and needs behind it. I knew this man when I was growing up. The calmest, gentlest man you ever wanted to meet. And once a month, without fail, he _had_ to have someone cover him with honey, let it dry, and then scrape it off him. He'd convinced himself for years that it was great for his skin -- you know, a beauty treatment. The fact that he always came during it was just a coincidence. Finally, he just gave up the pretense and had it done at this place my father was working at. My dad specializes in cases other people don't want. I mean, it takes _hours_ to scrape off dried honey, and the guy wasn't much of a tipper -- I don't think he had much money. But Dad was happy to do it because this guy _needed_ it. Whatever combination of sugar and pain and kink it was, he needed it like other people need hugs and other people need to be whipped and other people need romance. 

"And then, there are so many combinations: rape, borderline rape, pretending it's rape, power games and equipment, understanding and fellowship. Everything, absolutely everything but love. You really _can't_ buy that. And maybe that's why I couldn't stop laughing. It was so sad, really, so tragic, or, the way I had to look at it to keep going: such a stupid game. You have professionals and clients in houses -- that's what makes it a house. You don't have couples. You know, you can spend three weeks in a house, have every last desire fulfilled right to your breaking point, and it all isn't worth a half-bottle of genuine affection. That sounds naive, but believe me, it's not." 

"I do believe you." 

Austen stretched her arms and rolled her tired shoulders. She had to get sleep tonight. Tomorrow was the big day. "So it makes me angry, to see two people who love each other like _that_ thinking there's ultimately something wrong with it. And now, here they are, being dragged in front of a bunch of people who think there's something wrong with it too. They are, both of them, so terrified that this is going to ruin what they've got together. And as good and strong and beautiful as it is, they're right. They have reason to be scared." 

Troi more a sound of distress. "How can I help you?" 

Austen blinked. "I don't want you to help me. I want you to help him." 

"The captain and I --" 

"No, no. Not the captain. Q. He said you were his friend." Troi's eyebrows rose again, almost to her hairline. "The way I see it, it's harder on Q than Picard." 

"Because he's a Q, you mean? People would see him as being more evolved?" 

"People would have a point, from a biological standpoint, Picard is completely not in his league. Q says the Continuum accepts their union now, but before that -- come on, he must have been accused of everything from bestiality to pedophilia. And, unless I miss my guess, some braniac at the hearing is going to go through the same routine." 

"I have offered to help Q before," Troi said quietly. "But perhaps it's time to stop offering and start insisting." 

Austen smiled, looking quite tired. "Good. If I can help...I can't believe they're rushing this like this. A week to prepare!" 

"You'll do fine." 

Austen snorted softly and stood. "Thanks and no offense, Counselor, but I've got to do better than 'fine.'" 

  
Q hadn't stopped time, aware that Picard didn't want him to, but he had given Picard the equivalent of eight hours' sleep in about a nano-second as the man lay next to him in bed. 

Picard checked the chrono on his nightstand and sighed quietly. Three more hours before his alarm would sound. Q had his left hand on his stomach, and his right on his right hip. Picard's head rested against Q's shoulder. Picard's right hand was on Q's forearm, his left on his left hip. Their legs were intertwined. They hadn't moved in hours. 

"She was after me about it pretty consistently at first," Jean-Luc said quietly. "But I think she's finally realized I'm not going to relent." 

"You've played for Ahtaru and T-hon often enough," Q murmured. 

"Quite. The perfect audience. Why should I go slumming?" 

Q shivered at a welcome memory. 

"I swear, I think sometimes Beverly won't be happy until the entire ship is singing and dancing its way to the Neutral Zone." 

"Might give the Romulans pause. Tomalok might even die from shock." 

"Perhaps a little Puccini for the commander?" 

" _La Boheme,_ definitely. Or perhaps some Three Dog Night." 

Picard chuckled, enjoying the bouncing weight of Q's hand on his belly. They listened to the engines a while. 

"LaForge was so pleased to find the fault in the secondary processors, I hated to tell them we were getting replacements." 

"Leah Braums has definitely decided to divorce her husband, you know. And with good reason. The man's a goon. You could tell him about that." 

"I don't think he'd be comfortable with the information." 

"You mean he might want to transfer to Utopea Planetia so he can moon over her from anear instead of afar." 

"He might surprise us all, you know, and end up marrying someone else all together." 

"Ah, he's lost his heart. Poor man." 

"Is love a bad thing, then, Q?" 

"Horrible. The worst. Enough to cry to the ends of the cosmos over." 

"Hm, you're quite right, I'm sure." 

They smiled, and Q moved just his fingers over Picard's stomach, a half-caress at best. 

"We have a lot of sitting to get through. Are you sore?" 

"A little," Q admitted, closing his eyes at the memory. 

He'd returned to the Enterprise long before Picard's shift was over, tired of pretending he was interested in the proto-nebula he'd been studying intermittently the past few days. He knew he'd feel better just sitting on Picard's rather uncomfortable sofa, and had managed some time ago to get comfortable with admitting that sometimes he was simply happier waiting for Picard than doing anything else. 

But Jean-Luc had already been there, and was sitting on his couch himself. 

"Q," he'd said evenly. 

"Why didn't you call for me?" Q asked, sitting next to him. 

Picard shrugged very gently. "You're always waiting for me to get off duty. I wanted to wait for you." 

Q felt his breath catch just slightly at the buried tone of his lover's words, and the words he was about to speak seemed to take on weight in his chest before he loosed them to hover heavily in the air: 

"What do you want me to do?" 

"I've been thinking about it. All day. I thought it through several times, actually." Q bit his lip. "It always begins with you naked on my bed." 

Q raised his hand, then froze at the look on Jean-Luc's face. 

"May I?" he asked in a voice that shook. 

Picard nodded. 

Q snapped and lay there, naked, shivering, on his husband's little bed, staring up at Starfleet's idea of an acceptable ceiling, waiting. 

Picard sat on the sofa for several more minutes, seeing his lover in his mind's eye. 

He tried to remember every detail of when he'd first met Q. 

They were on their way to Farpoint. He was filled with worries, great and imaginary. He thought highly of his people so far, but he was worried about the children everywhere, and more than a little curious about whether Riker were going to be as good as he'd looked on paper. 

Troi had bothered him a bit. An empathic counselor in an extremely non-regulation outfit, like some sort of ship's cheerleader. 

And then a grid of energy, and a ridiculous looking creature using ancient words and ancient costumes, trying to pretend he had a right to order him and his crew about. 

Had he been even remotely attracted to Q then? Had he any idea what Q would become to him? 

_He's half my soul now -- literally. And he's mine. He's waiting for me. He'd wait there all night._

Slowly, savoring it, he stood. It was only a few steps to the bedroom, and then in the doorway he paused. 

Q, his skin just a little shiny with sweat, his arms and legs stretched just slightly out from his long, powerful body. He was already half-erect, and shivered while Picard let his gaze wander over every exposed inch of him. 

The man walked to the foot of the bed and sent a single image into Q's mind: a request that was an order. 

Q gasped slightly, and then the lattice-like canopy Picard wanted adorned the bed. He reached up, testing its strength, and nodded in satisfaction. 

Ignoring the metal bars for now, he walked to the side of the bed and sat beside Q's now quivering body. He smiled into Q's eyes and watched him relax slightly, then reached down to place the lightest of kisses on those full lips. Q kissed back, then moaned softly as Jean-Luc captured his bottom lip between his teeth and bit just barely. While Q was distracted, Picard slipped easily into his mind and settled a mental grasp at one special spot. 

He let go of Q's lip and went quickly to his neck to bite not-at-all-gently at that spot over Q's jugular. Q hissed and arched into it, his hands flexing, grabbing onto the sheets. Picard continued to bite and suckle almost ruthlessly, and Q began to whimper, his body jerking on the bed. Picard didn't have to look to know he was hard now and straining. 

He let his mouth roam a bit, seeking out other spots he knew would drive Q insane, chuckling to himself as his lover cried out. His fingers deftly found his nipples, already hard, and began to twirl around them. Soon, Q was writhing, moving into his touch, using all his will not to move his hands up and grab him close. Several minutes of this passed, suckling and twisting now, harder and tighter, until at last Q began to beg: 

"Let me come. You know I can't take this. Let me come." 

Picard tightened the mental control he'd taken on Q's orgasm, moved back to that best spot, and bit hard. Q arched and howled and fell back against the pillows, almost sobbing. 

And Jean-Luc sat up and looked him over, smelling the salt of his sweat and precum. Q's neck was covered in red bite-marks, and his nipples were red and throbbing with a frantic heartbeat. Picard kept his control steady, and stood, making sure Q could see him comfortably. 

Slowly, teasing a bit, he removed his boots, uniform, socks, and finally his briefs, freeing his own straining erection. Q's eyes locked on it, and his mouth opened for the softest of groans. 

Moving quickly now, the man stepped onto the bed and, using the bars over his head and then down along by the headboard, he straddled Q's shoulders, keeping his hands on the metal lattice to take much of his weight. Carefully, he positioned his hips so that his erection rested on Q's chin. 

"Suck me, Q." 

Q's eyes looked up at him, hot excitement shining, then he opened his mouth and Picard moved almost roughly inside. They both groaned at the sensations, and soon the man was pumping his hips, fucking Q's gorgeous mouth as his knees sunk deeply into the pillows and his cock sunk deeper into pressure and heat. Once again he had to concentrate to keep Q from coming, to say nothing of the exertion he had to put into not shooting deeply down Q's willing throat. His hands strained on the bars, his legs trembled with the effort of moving quickly but not too harshly. His voice rumbled and called Q's name. 

Q was struggling to accept this. His fingers ached to move from the damp sheet and caress the perfect ass moving over his chest. His tongue longed to have a chance to move over the soft, sweet head in his mouth. His whole body yearned for the feel of skin on skin. How had Jean-Luc known this would be so difficult for him? Simply to lie here and be something his lover _used_ like this? 

And then, like his lover had before him, he welcomed the difficulty, embraced the challenge, and wished it were harder still. He sucked as best he could and forced his limbs to relax. He did not think of anything but this, raising his eyes to the sight of Picard's straining face and neck, looking at the corded arms holding his lover's body in this awkward position as those narrow hips pumped him over and over. 

_Please come in my mouth,_ Q thought, though Picard had severed their link, forcing Q to mental silence. _Please. Right down my throat. While I can't do a thing. Come in me._

And as if sensing that Q was trying to reach him, Picard's own eyes opened and looked down. The sight impacted his chest like a fist: Q's face contorted by the motions of the cock in and out of his mouth, his skin flushed, his hair matted with sweat, his pleading eyes filled with tears. Picard howled as his hips bucked: 

"Mine! Mine! Mine!" 

His arms trembled as they took almost all his weight, his legs turning to jelly as he came down that warm throat. Q gurgled slightly as he swallowed, his eyes closing and squeezing out several of the tears which had pooled, and then, before the orgasm was finished, Picard was reaching out, and Q took his lover's mind inside his own with gratitude and joy. 

_Yours. Yes. Yours. Thank you. Yours. Always. Yours._

"Mine," Picard whispered, carefully pulling his spent cock out of Q's mouth, watching the semen and saliva drool from Q's lips. Q licked his lips and swallowed as Picard knelt beside him on the bed and fully opened his mind. 

Q felt that warmth and smiled, enjoying the need Picard had to own him, to use him in order to prove that ownership, to know he was loved by him...Yes, all such familiar longings. 

And then he realized what else Picard was offering: access to his control over Q's body. With a simple request, he could get his lover to make him come. 

Q was painfully, deliriously hard. And with the thought of what Picard was offering, he somehow grew even harder still. 

"No," Q breathed. "Not until you want." 

Picard smiled, a few tears of his own falling to Q's chest, before he bent to kiss him again. 

_Roll over on your knees and elbows._

Q waited for the kiss to end, then complied. As he settled into place, a drop of precum seeped from the tip of his penis and fell to the bed. Picard moved to get behind him, and another fell. Though Jean-Luc kept his mind open, that special access to his control was gone. Q groaned at the heaviness of the blood in his Human organ, and then jerked in pleasure as his testicles were caressed. 

"Ohhhhh," he sighed as a tongue, then lips, joined the fingers on his sac, and he spread his legs wider, arching back into it. Jean-Luc's hand took his swollen cock and brought it back between his legs, then that incredible mouth sucked delicately at the head and Q groaned harder, continuously, rocking back involuntarily. The fingers of his other hand probed at his opening, and Q shuddered hard at the thought of what was to come. 

"Yes," he muttered. "Yes." 

_Yes, my beloved._

"Yours." 

_I know. I feel it. You don't have to prove it to me anymore._

"I don't care if I don't have to. I _want_ to." 

Quicksilver ran through Picard's veins at those words, and his hands went to Q's shaft, working it as his mouth moved to Q's opening, licking him, kissing him. The man could feel the ring of muscle already relaxing. Q's backside was so smooth and warm, so firm and sweet. He licked all along the curves, kissed over the bottom of the spine, before moving back to the center. The slick cock in his hand was so hard, so heavy, so soft. He bit at a jutting curve of his ass, right over the pelvic bone, and felt Q's cock twitch in his hand. 

Picard shuddered at the urgency of his own returned erection, then called out the command for lubricant and raised up to get into position. 

Guiding himself to Q's oiled tightness with his free hand, Picard pushed gently but firmly inside, groaning at the tight heat pushing down along him until it gripped the base of his cock and pressed against his balls. Releasing Q's slick organ, he grabbed those perfectly set hips and began to pump, rocking Q back against him. 

And then he called for one more thing. 

_Look up, Q. Look into it._

Q's dark head rose as his eyes looked into the mirror. At that angle, the glass perfectly reflected their bodies, showing off Q's position on his knees and elbows, his spread legs, his whole body taking in the man who knelt behind him, fucking him. 

Q's garbled cry ended as he fell further, ending up with his cheek pressed hard against the sheets as he continued to stare at them both. He could see the swinging tip of his heavy cock, the line of his straining body. He could hear the rough noise of his own penetration, the slap of flesh to flesh, his own whimpers and Picard's grunts. He let his arms spread loosely, his eyes half-closed, acceptance shaping every curve. 

_This is my best use. I belong here, bent over, with your cock pounding inside my body, creating pleasure._

Picard pumped harder, slamming Q back against him, going in as deeply as he ever had, trying to get in deeper. Q helped, arching a bit more, opening, accepting. 

_There's nothing anymore but this. When you finally let me come, I'm going to die._

And then Picard's eyes turned from the back of Q's head to the mirror as well. Their gazes met and locked, and the man opened his mind further, sharing with him the extraordinary exhilaration of fucking his lover, taking on the extraordinary pleasure of being fucked, until they were one, mingled and united and complete. The second it was done all control was lost, and they both came as though it truly were death they welcomed, exploding and being filled, screaming as the universe became nothing but their shared love and release. 

And now, hours later, they were still so warm and sated they hadn't been able to move any further than to roll on their backs and stare up at the metal lattice now casting starlight shadows on the smooth metal ceiling. 

"She's worried about us, isn't she?" 

Q stretched out slightly with his mind. Austen was sleeping now. He didn't have to read her thoughts to answer the question. "Very. She thinks we picked her because we're worried there really is something wrong with our being together." 

"Wrong how?" 

"Perverted. Bestial on my side and deluded on yours." 

"Does _she_ think that at all?" 

"That's not your usual sort of question." 

"I'm not usually handing my life over to someone I barely know." 

"No, she doesn't think it. She's think we're 'sweet.'" 

Picard thought a long moment, then moved, finally, rolling over to press his face into Q's chest. "'Deluded?' Am I deluded? Do I feel I'm deluded? I feel...overly fortunate. Unworthy. Any moment someone or something will come and take you from me. I get so frightened this can't last that I can't seem to breathe, or speak, or move. When I find myself relaxing with joy, I berate myself for letting down my guard, for not...frantically holding precious every moment we have together." 

"Frantic." Q sighed, relishing the weight of Picard's head on his body. "Yes, frantic and fever-pitched. I've known more happiness with you in two years than I knew before in two million years. I have so many things I'd made myself stop believing I could ever have. I've been delirious with it..." 

"...and frantic." 

"Yes." 

The ship went quickly past a small red nebula, and the glow filled the room a long moment, then faded. 

"We should be frantic," Q said. "I've been looking for you for five billion years. I've held you for a heartbeat. I'm allowed to be frantic." 

Picard smiled. 

"Seriously, Jean-Luc, it's a wonder I've maintained any sanity about us at all." 

"Then what's my excuse?" 

"A hard, unloving father, a desperate fear of not being up to the challenges life would hand you, and sixty-so years of being alone." 

In one smooth movement Picard reached up and was kissing him. The familiar and yet incredibly exciting warmth answered him, filled him, surrounded and blessed him. 

_We have no confidence in this, no surety, no comfort._

_And yet I trust you beyond trust, Q._

_Yes, you trust me, but you don't trust_ us. _You can't. It's too much for either of us at this point to believe we're not going to have this taken away, just as everything before has been taken away._

_Superstition._

_Learned behavior. Learned over our whole lives, minus two years. We're allowed an adjustment period._

Picard opened his mouth, deepening the kiss, and with a growl Q rolled them over and plundered him. The man's body shuddered and pressed up, his arms wrapping around Q's form and holding him close. 

Then both seemed to realize what they were doing, and ended the kiss as gently as they could. 

_Do we think there's something wrong with us?_ Picard asked. _Or do we only fear that we do?_

_We fear something, my love. We've feared it since this began._

Q found he was counting his breaths, savoring each motion of his skin against Picard's chest. 

_Well, you're supposed to know everything, what do we fear?_

Q sighed. "Austen used that against me as well." 

Stung, Picard pulled back to look with contrition into Q's eyes. 

And then he knew what it was. 

"Q, if you left me, I would never recover." 

_But I could never leave you. It would destroy me. Literally...now._

Picard nodded, whispering, "The stakes are so high: an eternity of happiness or complete destruction for us both. Heaven or hell." 

Q shook his head. "We'll carve out someplace in the middle for us, somewhere we can welcome eternity without everyone getting up our noses." 

Picard's eyes narrowed. "You don't believe that." 

Q met those eyes bravely a moment, then sighed. "No. The universe isn't that saccharine. When you're dealing in eternity there is no 'happily ever after.'" 

And then Picard's lips stretched in a terrible smile. 

"We're mortal immortals now, aren't we, Q? If others manage to separate us now that we share your Q-ness, we'll die. You've become mortal for me after all." 

Q watched his husband's hazel eyes fill again with bright tears, then leaned forward and gently kissed his eyes shut. "I don't mind. I don't regret it, not for a nano-second. Do you regret the immort --" 

"Not for a nano-second." 

  
The hearing was held in the main courtroom, the gallery large enough to hold the entire command staff comfortably, with room for a large collection of brass as well. Austen hadn't wanted her clients to make an entrance, and so the admirals who arrived had to settle for the sight of Picard and Q and a minor lieutenant sitting at the defendant's table, talking quietly. 

"I don't know why they've changed the batting order," she was saying. "They're using this guise of 'informality' to muck up several standard procedures. You might want to insist on a change of format." 

"You won't get it." 

They all turned to Admiral Necheyev, Q letting his eyes show an overt lack of surprise. 

But Necheyev was only looking at Picard, her own eyes clearly displaying concern and anger. 

"I've been trying to find out who's responsible for this mess," she whispered, keeping her back to the table where Admirals Van Jos and Harrison now sat. "All I know for certain is the informal pose is for the sake of a witness they didn't want to declare." 

Austen looked ready to spit. "I'll object." 

"That strategy might not have gotten you far before," Necheyev said with grim satisfaction, "but it might today. We managed to get the advocate changed -- the original advocate was one of Harrison's own people, if you can believe it. However, we all had to get someone completely unconnected to any camp, so I'm not sure what sort of leeway either side is going to get from her. Something's going on that's got half the JAG office squirming and the other half clueless." 

"This witness is also the reason for the one-week notice?" Austen asked. 

"I can only imagine so. This is damned irregular and I wanted you to know," she looked directly at Picard again, "that just about everyone outside the JAG office is screaming foul over this. We even tried to get the whole thing stopped -- but no dice." 

"Thank you," Picard said. "Your efforts are greatly appreciated." 

"Whatever happens here, just know it's not the end of anything," she hissed, anger flashing, before she nodded politely to Q, sent a shrewd look at Austen, and retired to the gallery. 

Austen made a note on a padd and took it over to the court reporter. 

"Q." 

"Yes?" 

"Perhaps when this is over we'll have learned something from it." 

Q hid his smile, then almost winced. 

"What is it?" 

"I don't know." 

Picard stared at him. 

"I thought about taking us out of time, and I felt...something." 

Austen slid back into her seat right as the hearing was called to order. The Advocate, Selim Halgral, an Andorian Picard did not know, walked into the room calmly and took her seat behind the central table. 

"I see that the defense has called for an inquiry before we've even had a chance to open the forum," Halgral said quietly, looking over the note from the court reporter. "Ordinarily, I'd nip such legal squirming in the bud. But in this instance..." She looked with some disfavor at the plaintiff's table. "I'm inclined to be more lenient. 

"The defense raises several valid questions, Counselor Gorenne. Why have formal charges been couched in informal terms? Why has this hearing been pushed so fiercely through legal channels? And why has an important witness evidently been left off the witness list?" 

Counselor Gorenne, whose extra-perfect resume had made Austen suspicious that his background did indeed involve Starfleet Intelligence, stood with regal bearing and addressed the advocate courteously: 

"Our primary witness, if you will allow, is of such importance that we did not wish to endanger his appearance at these proceedings." 

"I'm not impressed with hat tricks, Counselor." 

"Begging your indulgence, we are prepared to produce this witness at this time." 

"But I don't know that I'm prepared to receive him," the advocate announced flatly. 

Q hissed. 

"Look, is this going to take all day or what?" a tall man in an admiral's uniform asked from his seat on the advocate's desk. 

"Q!" Q shouted, standing up. "What do you think you're doing?" 

The second Q looked at Q disdainfully. "I've come to confess the evil nature of the Q and our plans to bring about the downfall of Humanity." 

Q laughed and looked at the plaintiff's table. "I don't believe you people. He's not even a member of the Continuum!" He snorted. "So you thought you'd get a Q to take a side in Human politics! Children playing with fire!" 

"You're one to talk," the Q sitting on the table drawled, his eyes going to Picard. "So, he's Mr. Excitement, is he?" 

"You're not allowed to be here," Q snapped. "Do you think you can just do what you like?" 

"Qs or not," the advocate said icily, "I will have order in these proceedings or I will adjourn." 

"Put a sock in it," the Q on the table snarled, and the advocate's eyes bulged slightly as she realized she couldn't breathe. 

Q snapped his fingers and the advocate gasped in relief. His manner had grown increasingly glacial, and as Picard stood at his side, everyone in the room had a feeling of _presence_ before -- four new flashes shone into the room and then a Q appeared for each one. Picard relaxed slightly at the thought of the Continuum's authority, then realized, somehow, that this was not the Continuum. 

And then all the Qs save Q were gone, and Picard along with them. 

  
Jean-Luc Picard turned in a full circle, taking in the lush green French valley only a few miles from his family home. He was dressed as a field laborer -- a laborer who worked only in the mind of some Romantic painter. His clean, slightly ragged clothes hugged and hung off his body in a way that made him feel on display, and his bare feet, though warmed in the sunshine, sank deeply into the cool grass. 

"It doesn't help," said a female voice from his right. "I just don't see it." 

"Well, I'm sure it's not supposed to be that obvious," said a voice ahead of him. "Right?" 

"If you wish to speak with me please show yourselves," Picard said calmly. 

"He does have a lovely voice," the female voice said. 

"But if you're not Humanoid, who cares?" asked another female voice behind him. A caress over his backside followed, and Picard firmly moved away from the touch. 

"You were supposed to get him up on the stand and talking," a new voice, low and quarrelsome, complained from Picard's left. "We were supposed to get some background information here. You were _supposed_ to get Q's testimony!" 

"He was contacting the Continuum," a voice Picard recognized replied, speaking as though from high above them. "I had no choice." 

The female Q who'd spoken first flashed into the scene, dressed in the fetching clothing of an idealized French peasant girl of the 1700's. Her eyes were dark green, full of curiosity, and looking Picard over from head to toe. "There's not much point in making elaborate plans, exposing ourselves to discovery, waiting two _weeks_ for the Humans to get their act together, when all you do is suddenly appear like a den mother." 

"Quite the weak-kneed simile," the Q from the courtroom said, appearing himself now beside her, dressed like Picard. 

"Look, if you want something from me, you might try talking to me instead of talking about me," Picard offered. 

"He might have a point there," said the second female Q as she appeared, looking down her nose from her considerable height. Her costume was purely aristocratic, right down to her enormous powdered wig and ruthlessly tight corset. "Q talks to him." 

"Q has sex with him," the last of the Qs said, flashing in wearing the male version of French beau monde. His eyes raked Picard hotly. "Lots of it. I say we should start there." 

"Q respects me as a person," Picard responded, still completely calm. "Without that, there would be nothing." 

The tall female Q reached out and trailed a touch along the side of Picard's face. Gently, he moved away, smiling slightly. 

"He doesn't seem cooperative," the green-eyed female Q noted dryly. 

"Well, how long did Q work on him, anyway?" 

"Jean-Luc," the aristocratic male said in a tone that was almost beguiling. "Whatever Q gives you, we can give it to you five times over. Can't you see that?" 

"You're talking about an emotional bond, a relationship which has been constructed and structured over time and with a great deal of mutual effort. Please remove your hand." 

The Q smiled and squeezed the man's backside just a little more firmly. Picard tried to move away, but the other Q had closed in on him slightly. The tall female Q was sliding a considering hand along his right shoulder. 

"Whatever you want from me cannot be taken in this fashion," Picard pronounced. 

"Humans take their clothes off right about now, don't they?" Green Eyes asked. 

"No, they do not!" Picard bellowed. 

The Q backed off slightly. Picard tugged his peasant clothes back into place. 

"Raping me will teach you nothing about my relationship with Q." 

The Qs blinked at him. 

"Why not? Isn't this what Q did?" the courtroom Q asked. 

"He most certainly did not!" 

"Look at that!" said the male Q in peasant clothes. "He's defending him!" 

"Q and I became friends before we became lovers." Picard crossed his arms. "And we're still friends." 

The Q looked at each other, and Picard felt something against which, instinctively, he struggled... 

  
Love!" he scoffed, color high in his face, his heart pounding. "What would you know about love?" 

Q narrowed his gaze a little further and smiled, faintly. "Now there's an invitation if I ever heard one." And he snapped his fingers. 

Picard looked around in alarm. It was some sort of large chamber with soft white walls and several large, open windows over which billowed delicate white curtains, and through which poured warming sunlight. The floor was carpeted thickly in the same creamy, clean shade. 

But mostly, the room consisted of one large, white-draped-and-clothed bed. 

  
He pushed back against this invasion. No! He wouldn't... 

  
Picard looked at this central piece of furniture and heard his own ridiculous gasp. He whirled on Q. "Enough of this! I don't know this game, or if I do it's an old one I would have thought beneath you. Either way I'm not going to cooperate." A horrible thought struck him. "Unless you think you can force me to --" 

"If I were interested in forcing you, we'd have come to this room years ago." His voice dropped. "And don't think I wasn't tempted, Picard, sorely and deeply tempted. How do you think it's been for me, knowing I could simply wish it and you'd let me fuck you on your own bridge, while Riker applauded and Data took notes?" 

Picard was so angry he had trouble controlling his breathing. 

  
He could feel them united against him, smothering him, forcing him. Their surprise at his strength gave him an edge. He forced himself not to reach out for Q's help. He knew that avenue had been blocked. Five Qs against one protecting that block. And yet he felt himself beginning to gain the upper hand in his own struggle. 

  
Picard remained still this time as that right hand returned to his face, and the index finger traced his right brow and then his left gently, faintly, as though Picard were the most valuable piece of art in the universe. Which, of course, he was, to Q. Picard made himself look into the entity's eyes and saw everything Q had promised: love, desire, tenderness. That tension between his stomach and his chest was back, painfully, burning now as he watched Q's face come nearer his own. 

"So long," Q moaned softly. "I've wanted to do this for so long." 

  
“Q!" he shouted, breaking out, breaking free, falling unfettered into darkness. 

Damnit. 

_Well, the Human is full of surprises._

_We knew he'd be strong._

_Not this strong. What was Q thinking?_

_Some memory less powerful, perhaps. Less personal._

_Then we won't learn anything._

Picard felt himself being surrounded again, and struggled against the darkness. God, he was so tired. 

_Wait. I've got something._

  
Austen smiled at them, evidently able to tell just from looking at them that things had improved. 

He smiled back, still just slightly unfocused after his merging with Q the night before. His body ached a bit as well. It was all nothing he couldn't ignore if he needed to, but since Q had explained how...helpful Austen had been, he didn't feel like forcing a distance between them that he didn't feel. 

  
O _h, for Pete's sakes, it was only a smile! She didn't even seem to notice! How uptight is this guy?_

_She noticed; look she's fussing about refreshments now._

  
Austen passed over the cup of Earl Grey with a smile. "I drink Oolong, myself." She looked at Q. "Don't know what Qs drink, tea-wise." 

Q snorted and crossed his legs, but underneath it was easy to see he was feeling smug. Picard felt his heart quicken slightly and stomped on it.. 

"I've worked out the initial aspects of my strategy," Austen was saying now, sipping at her own dark tea. "I wanted to run it by you and get your input." 

"Of course." 

"The basic issue, stripped of whatever political maneuvering Command is up to, is that they want to claim that your relationship with Q has changed you so greatly that you're no longer fit for your captaincy. Our response is going to be that you and Q have both worked to ensure that your relationship has not changed you to that point, and as a focus for this I'm going to explain what I basically see as your new understanding of the afterlife. 

"The thing of it is, Starfleet, like any authority, has to be careful about religious beliefs. We all understand that duty comes before everything, but that people's faith is held separately. For the most part, we ignore it, but I've found multiple instances of when people were not allowed to be prosecuted because their faith basically 'excused' their behavior. I like this better than the cultural approach, since you're from Earth, and any argument that cultural differences are in play will only add fuel to the argument that you've been changed." 

"Understood." 

  
O _h, this is boring._

_Shut up and pay attention. Q did, and look what he got out of it._

_I'm trying to look at what he got out of it. Let's just have sex with him and see what happens._

_I can't believe you're so eager to copulate like a dog!_

_Will you two please shut up?_

  
“Everyone expects that a Starfleet officer -- or crewman -- will have a will to survive, but no one would expect a member of the Haldron Order -- an order which is primarily Havenistic but which has many Human members -- to forego the Rite of Granzek, which involves ritual suicide. You, Captain, view your afterlife as different from the rest of us, because you plan to spend eternity with Q. Many among your crew plan to spend eternity with God, with the prophets, with Key'less or Vuinol, or who knows who. The nature of faith is not simply to believe these things as a child believes in the monster under the bed, but to plan on them, to hold them as part of their lives. People make life choices, I mean, based on these faiths." 

"And they're still given command," Picard finished, "even though they do not 'fear' annihilation with death." 

"Exactly. Apart from the consideration of your immortality, I'm going to claim simply rights to a personal life and the exemplary nature of your service record." 

"What are you going to say when they claim I've meddled in that record?" Q asked. 

Austen smiled slightly. "Well, that's where the adversarial nature of the old court system helps us. They can't actually say that. If they have a witness who makes such a claim, I have only to ask for their proof of such a claim, then ask for it to be stricken from the record. Eventually, the court system itself will make clear that we have no way of knowing what Q or any of his fellow Q have or haven't done in Human history. It should become a non-issue." 

  
_Well, we proved her wrong._

_What a triumph._

_Oh, this is pointless. So he worships Q and offers his body like a sacrifice --_

  
“Of course, I will also need to make clear that your affections towards Q have nothing to do with worship," Austen was saying with a smile. 

Picard laughed, feeling Q suppress a smile of his own. 

  
_We're getting nothing out of this!_

_Well, if you hadn't screwed up the trial --_

_All right! Enough!_

  
Picard blinked, seeing the table of admirals behind Austen as she smiled at him just barely. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't get the delay, sir," she murmured. 

"You're doing your best, Lieutenant," he answered quietly, then stood. 

His feet felt odd. He supposed he was more nervous than he had thought. He was damn near dizzy. 

"Do you affirm that the testimony you give here today will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" the official asked him gravely, her eyes slightly dead and plainly bored. 

"I do," he said with equal gravity, though a small voice in his head asked _What is truth?_ He had to keep away from thoughts like that at present, if Austen's strategy were going to work. He couldn't keep his eyes from settling on Q, who was looking at him with a sort of quiet concern the others would read only as calm. 

Gorenne stood up from the plaintiff's table and smiled at him, exuding "This is nothing personal. I'm only here for the truth" as he walked slowly to the raised chair upon which Picard stiffly sat. 

"Captain Picard, your record is well-known to the members of this hearing. I'm sure I'm safe in saying there's no one here who isn't impressed with that record, even, I'm assuming, your...I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm not sure what to call him." 

Jean-Luc gave it a beat, then: "Q." 

A very low amused murmur accompanied Gorenne's tight smile. 

"I suppose I walked into that one." He tilted his head and narrowed his black-brown eyes. His Human appearance was belied only by the slightly copper tint of his skin and his third nostril. "How would you describe your relationship with Q, sir?" 

"We consider ourselves mated." 

"Mated? So...he's your husband, your life partner? your lover?" 

Picard shrugged slightly. "Any of those terms would suffice." 

"But which do you prefer?" 

"As with all words, Counselor, they are none without flaw. Which one do you have a problem with?" 

"Well, frankly, all of them suggest an equality, a give-and-take which I think most of us here are properly curious about." 

"You're concerned over my husband's ability to alter reality," Picard said, catching sight of Austen's approving micro-nod. 

Gorenne blinked slightly, allowing the question its moment, then making it his: "Yes, quite frankly indeed, sir. I am." He stood just a little straighter and talked a little faster. "Your relationship invites Q's interest in the daily activities of Humanity, does it not?" 

"Invites further interest, yes." 

"And we have seen through your own experiences that this interest can sometimes be dangerous, have we not? The Borg? That temporal anomaly which could have wiped us completely out of history?" 

Picard waited a moment, considering deliberately, then said with a gentle calm that robbed his words of all melodrama, "It is my firm belief that without Humanity's interaction with the Q, our race has had multiple experiences which could have ended our existence, including our encounters with the Borg." 

"That must make you feel good about the deaths of those eighteen people who died under your command when you first met the Borg." 

"I feel 'good' about no one who has ever died under my command, Counselor." 

Picard's icy tone hovered a moment as Gorenne rethought his next question, and Picard made the barest eye contact with Q. There dark depths swam with emotion he could not deal with at this moment, and yet which could not be denied. Keeping his face and body perfectly still, he reached inside himself for the love he felt for his husband, that steady, constant warmth, and allowed the fire to fill him, then constructed with that heat an arc of invisible white light which reached out to touch and radiate for an instant beyond time the keeper of his heart. 

  
O _oooohhhhh!_

_What? Ahhhhh -- Yes!_

_So_ good! 

_That feels wonderful!_

_More! Get him to do it again!_

  
“Captain Picard. I wonder if you could tell this hearing what you feel to be the proper limits of a starship captain's authority." 

"In what regard?" 

"Just...in general." 

"Objection, Your Honor," Austen said, standing up. "Our concerns here today are specific, not general. I'm sure no one here is interested in a fishing expedition." 

The Advocate smiled wryly, her Andorian face making it a small art form, then looked at Gorenne. "I'm afraid I agree with her, Counselor. Do you have a specific question for Captain Picard?" 

"Do you feel your people can be comfortable --" 

"Objection, Your Honor. Captain Picard is not a telepath nor an empath. If Counselor Gorenne wants to know about the crew's feelings, he should direct his questions to Counselor Troi or the crew itself." 

"Objection sustained." 

"Captain Picard, yes or no, concerning only your own feelings, you have 'mated' with an entity who's basically all-powerful, have you not?" 

"'All-powerful?' No, I do not believe that Q is all-powerful." 

"But he's pretty close then, isn't he, Captain?" 

Picard felt the amusement rising again in the room and shrugged slightly. "He's a member of an extremely powerful race, yes." 

"Close enough to destroy the Romulans? Defeat the Borg?" 

"Yes." 

"Bring the dead back to life? Make everyone here think they're little pink fairies?" 

"Yes." 

"Make everyone in reality a little pink fairy?" 

"Yes." 

Gorenne paused now, letting all that admission settle. 

"That's pretty much all-powerful in my book, Captain Picard." 

"It is the nature of Starfleet's charter to expand our knowledge and to face new challenges, however powerful." 

"So, your taking an unpredictable pseudo-god for a lover is part of Humanity's challenge to the universe?" 

"Objection!" 

"Sustained. Counselor Gorenne, I would avoid insults if I were you." 

Gorenne backed off slightly again, and Q made the smallest of movements. Picard met his eyes again for the briefest moment, sending another arc of psychic light his way. The five Qs truly present showered in the sensation, but the one controlling the scenario sent part of it back: not a rejection, but sharing. 

  
_What are you doing? Don't waste it!_

_Shut up. I have a plan._

  
Picard blinked several times, quietly, clearing the joy from his mind as Gorenne turned once more to face him. 

"Could you please tell us, sir, how you justify your participation in a relationship which puts all of Humanity at risk?" 

"If I felt that all of Humanity, or even the welfare of any one person besides myself, were at risk from Q, I would not be in a relationship with him." 

Gorenne's eyes narrowed again. His mouth opened for the next question. 

And remained there. 

Picard looked around the room quickly, feeling the stillness of the place, then stared in concern at the tall entity who was leaving the defendant's table to walk to his raised chair. 

"Q? What are you doing?" 

"I can't take this. I have to touch you." 

"Q, I thought we agreed --" The rest was lost in the full lips which pressed against him. He recognized the hunger there, knew it as well as his own, and let himself become lost in the feel of Q's warmth and strength around him. Need probed his mind insistently, and he opened himself, allowing the love now to pour out without structure, bathing his lover in the joy he felt at his touch, in knowing he was part of his life. 

A large hand went down behind him, cupping his backside in a way that felt oddly familiar, and incongruously, he felt very slightly cold. 

But then Q deepened the kiss, plundering him almost frantically, and Picard pressed back, letting his own hands roam over the long-ago-memorized form he adored. 

_I love you._

_And I love you...Jean-Luc._

  
_Get him on the desk. We can fuck him right here._

_Charming._

_Oh, yes. This is great. No wonder Q went for it._

_But the work involved!_

_Would you all_ please _be quiet?_

  
Picard had been pulled completely away from the chair now and felt his body being maneuvered to the long desk behind which the Advocate sat, frozen along with the rest of the room. 

_Not here. We can't._

_Must have you. Must touch you. Please._ Please, _Jean-Luc._

Picard allowed it, letting Q lead him to the table now, letting Q help him off with the first layer of his uniform. He felt horribly uncomfortable with the idea of doing this in front of their frozen audience, and was a little dismayed that Q didn't just snap them somewhere else. He supposed it was more of the power/ownership thing he and Q had been doing earlier, but he'd thought they had gotten through that for now and had moved on to supporting each other. Having sex on the desk wasn't going to help him. 

And suddenly, Picard felt this whole thing was damn inconsiderate. 

But his tunic was off now, and Q was pulling up his turtleneck, his hands roughly caressing the skin underneath. 

_Q, love...not here, all right?_

Q didn't answer, dragging his mouth across his exposed skin, pulling his shirt up higher. The caresses were growing increasingly rough and unpracticed. It seemed suddenly as if they were a stranger's hands, a stranger's lips and teeth worrying his skin. 

"Q, stop." He pushed against the heavy body on top of him, his back chilled by the cold wood finish that held him up to the empty stares of the court. 

Q's hand dragged its way into his uniform, grasping his backside. 

"Q! Stop, damnit!" A memory was struggling with him now, and some sort of...eyes. Why did there seem to be so many eyes? 

Q's eyes were looking into his now, burning with angry need. 

"Jean-Luc. I need to do this, okay?" 

"You're not Q." Picard whispered, chilled through now with fear. "Who are you? What have you done with Q?" 

The face bent down towards him, and he struggled. With more than his body and his mind, he struggled. 

The hearing room vanished, and the five Qs, all naked in every way a Q can be naked, grabbed his bared body, pulled at him, surrounded him. His body was touched, his mind probed. They no longer found his strength surprising. He felt them over-power him. 

And he shut down, burning at low light. 

  
“You broke him!" 

"I did not!" 

"You're the one we were following!" 

"I was trying to back off!" 

"Well, this is great, just great. Look at him!" 

Five Q minds examined their damaged Human prize. 

Picard had pushed his mind into some sort of defensive trance, and Q-energy held him there. They could force him out, of course, but not without inflicting more damage. 

His body was not in good shape. Several of his calcium-formed bones were broken, and some of his inner pieces, especially the mechanical one, weren't working right. They fixed all that, using the blueprints Q had made of Humans while he was waiting with the monkeys at Starfleet "Intelligence" for Picard's ship to arrive. 

Then, they sat together, watching for any sign that Q had found them in this no-place they had made, and planned another approach. 

  
Troi stepped wearily into the turbolift and murmured, "Officer's quarters," in a voice no louder than it needed to be for the computer to hear her. 

It was over a day now that the captain had been gone. 

She still could hear Q's scream of rage as they all realized that the other Qs had taken Picard. Riker had tried to say something, but then Q himself had flashed out. They hadn't seen any Q or the captain since. 

In the forty-one hours since the abduction, the Enterprise's sensors had done nothing but search for anything -- a stray energy signature, signs of a temporal disturbance -- anything that might be connected to Q activity. Troi herself had been using her skills to search the area for any sign, any stray feelings, and had come up as empty as the sensors. 

Austen and Riker, meanwhile, had unleashed an unholy fury on the officers present in the hearing room, and may have done irreparable harm to their careers. 

Members of Starfleet Intelligence did not like to be shown for fools, and were rarely cooperative when caught out in a mistake. The hearing should have been instantly adjourned. Participants should have been allowed to retreat to their corners. 

But instead, Will and Julia had drawn strength and momentum from their shared rage and had viciously slashed into Admirals Van Jos and Harrison as everyone else watched in a confused stupor. Troi closed her eyes against the memory of the accusations tossed between them. The Advocate had eventually called for order, postponed the hearings until all involved parties could be retrieved, and then ordered an investigation into Van Jos and Harrison's dealings with the Q. 

Troi sighed and stepped out of the lift. Her whole body felt heavy and unsteady, and yet she could still feel her mind seeking, reaching for some sort of warmth, a mental scent. 

_Captain? Where are you?_

And nothing. For forty-one hours. Nothing at all. It felt as if Captain Picard were dead. 

She frowned. He was surely only out of her range. 

She walked through the _swoosh_ of her door and then stood in the darkness, some instinct telling her not to call for the lights. 

A dark form sat on the loveseat under her starlit window. 

"Q?" 

The form didn't answer. She walked forward as her sight adjusted and took in the faint glitter of his eyes. She stood there quietly, uncertain, openly worried. 

"I can't find him." 

She bit her lip at that voice, more tired, more drained than she felt herself. "I know," she whispered back. 

Carefully, she sat on the seat with him, not touching, not crowding. 

"They've taken him from me, Deanna. And I don't know why." 

"They're not part of the Continuum?" 

Q snorted, his eyes looking towards the window now as he turned slightly, his body facing her. 

"Did you think I was the only outcast?" 

"But they have their powers." 

"Yes. They're like I was when I asked to join the crew that time. I remember..." 

She waited, letting her own urgency burn off, joining now with Q here, pushing her mind into the minute, trying to let him know she was concentrating on him as Q, and not simply as the entity in love with her captain. 

He seemed to feel it, and met her eyes in the dim light. She read now easily the despair, the terror in his mind, the paralyzing anxiety. 

"I remember," he whispered, "being so bored I was desperate, willing to do almost anything to entertain myself, to give myself pleasure since I had lost all purpose. My worst...offenses. I did them then." 

"There are five of them? A sort of community of outcasts?" 

Q nodded. "I thought they were far away. No, that's not true. I never did think of them. I haven't seen any of them in millions of years. Maybe I thought they were dead." 

"They have some sort of grudge against you?" 

Q gestured helplessly. "Not that I know of. Seriously, I've been trying to think." Q's voice quavered. "I can't think, I can't remember anything, and...besides..." 

"They were more interested in him," she finished for him. It had been easy for her to feel: impossible not to, actually. The avarice they'd felt for Picard, the greedy delight with which they'd taken him. 

"I know you people think of me as amoral," Q said now, "but you have no idea. They have nothing to lose. Nothing to fear. Combined like that, the five of them have all the power they need to be safe. There's nothing I can do, nothing I can..." Q actually ran out of breath, and Troi realized he was refusing to weep. 

Her move was instinctive, not something she would have dared consciously. A hand on his forearm as it rested on the back of the loveseat. And through that connection she suddenly felt the depth of him, of his fear and exhaustion as she hadn't before. It wasn't what she had ever sensed from him before. It felt...mortal. 

"Q?" she urged. "Are you all right?" 

Q laughed weakly. 

"Should we get you to Sickbay?" 

Q laughed harder now, shaking his head. 

_There's nothing Bev's rattles and spells can do for me, my dear._

"Q, are you and the captain joined -- more than emotionally?" 

Q nodded, then moaned suddenly and leaned forward as she felt a wave of nausea from him. He ended up resting his head in his arms, and she found she had again moved instinctively, taking him protectively in her arms. She almost called for Dr. Crusher, frightened as she'd never been for Q before. 

And then, under her touch, she felt something. Q seemed to steady just slightly. 

_I was giving him parts of myself. Just a little. I think they may have been waiting for that to get to the point...I can't keep my strength up. They must have realized I was weakened. Jean-Luc knew. A fellow Q would know..._

_You need him?_ It was easy to speak into Q's mind. Easy to ignore her own weariness as she felt the ebbing of his consciousness. _You need him to connect with? To join with?_

Q nodded, his head resting now against her shoulder. _I wouldn't ordinarily be this tired for years without him, but I -- they made traps for me, mazes I had to break out of, nets I got lost in..._

"Bastards," she spat, and felt Q laugh against her. 

_Can you rest?_ she asked. _Can I help you rest?_

"You're not Jean-Luc." 

"No, but I do care about you." 

Q shuddered slightly, and she felt him wanting to resist. 

"All right," he said finally. "If you'll let me stay on your sofa, I'll try." 

"The sofa is too small for you," she said quietly, slipped away to stand up and pull on his hands, tugging very gently. "Come on." 

Q stood slowly, obviously dizzy, and she felt him attempt to come up with some sort of smart remark about being led to her bed. But as soon as the bed itself came into sight, Q stumbled, and she felt him long for something... 

"All right," she said easily, turning towards the hall door. 

"I...no...it's..." he sputtered, embarrassment battling fatigue. 

But Troi shook her head and tugged harder. "Computer, is there anyone out in the hall right now?" 

"Negative." 

"Anyone headed here in the turbolift?" 

"Negative." 

Troi stuck her head out the door anyway, checking both ways, before she pulled a still-protesting Q in the corridor, then down the few doors until they slipped through the entrance to Picard's rooms. From there, it was easy to get Q to the bed he shared with his husband. Q fell on top of the comforter and breathed in the scent there with joy while Troi pulled off her boots, then Q's, and then spooned beside him in the bed, feeling him shudder slightly. Then, embarrassment and gratitude both now grappling with exhaustion, and losing, he fell asleep. 

  
Q knew he was sleeping almost as a Human would, except, of course, for that very knowledge. He was aware as well of Troi's energy, the affection she had put on high boil for him. With that energy seeping into him, he truly rested, trusting her for Jean-Luc's sake, drifting without purpose, without any other form but the flesh and blood of his Humanity. This meant there was no defense against the terror of being without Jean-Luc, nothing to fill the inexhaustible emptiness inside him. But then, that wouldn't change even when he was fully awake and aware. And now there was warmth, of a sort, from the woman he'd promised Jean-Luc he would call his friend. 

And then the warmth increased, took on a new flavor. He drank it in, hungrily, pressing it through his chilled consciousness until he felt it almost as a dream, where Jean-Luc took his hand in front of his officers and crew in Data's post-recital reception, holding onto him as a declaration of intent that had made his heart threaten to explode. 

Q opened his eyes to find that he had pressed his face deeply into Picard's pillow, breathing in as Humans did oxygen the smell of his husband. 

_My husband. Jean-Luc. Why did they take you? Where are you? Are you all right?_

Stifling a groan, he moved his head away from the soft fabric and rolled very slowly over, not wanting to wake the woman at his side. He could see the rise of her leg as they both rested still on top of the covers. 

And then he froze, looking at the male hand draped over her hip. Very slowly, his eyes moved along the shape of it, further and further, until, lifting his head slightly, he saw Riker's sleeping, hairy face resting against the pillow covered in the counselor's dark hair. 

So, this was the source of that added heat and flavor. 

In his mind's eye he called up the scene. 

Riker had come in and looked at them. He'd known they were there by asking the computer for Troi's location once he'd found she wasn't in her quarters. No, Q realized, probing just a bit, he hadn't known Q was there. He'd gone into the room wondering why Troi was in the captain's quarters, hoping she might have some sort of lead on something, and then, finding the front room empty, he'd gone into the bedroom. 

Riker had been more than a little surprised at what he saw, but when Q searched for what he expected, jealousy, resentments, pity, he found in Riker only understanding and -- Q almost shuddered -- compassion. 

For the first time, Q really thought about what it meant to Riker that Picard had been so happy for -- from his temporal perspective -- the past year. Q knew that the relationship between the Enterprise's captain and first officer had never been better, but he hadn't realized that Riker credited him with any of that. He hadn't thought, not for a moment, that Number Two might be grateful for it. 

And then Riker had taken off his boots, being careful not to let them thump on the floor, and then settled himself down next to his Imzadi and -- taking care not to touch Q himself -- sank deeply into his own exhausted slumber. 

And while Q was trying to figure out how best to respond to all this, Riker opened his eyes. Q stared at him. Riker's blue eyes twinkled just slightly. 

_Good morning,_ he mouthed. 

Q found the best he could do was a tight smile. 

"Good morning," Deanna said, her own eyes a little mischievous as she rolled over onto her back and up against Riker. Q opened his mouth to speak, then simply left it open as the woman luxuriously reached up with her left hand to twine around the back of Riker's neck and bring his bearded face down for a slow good-morning kiss. Riker responded somewhat stiffly at first, then seemed to relax, forgetting about Q as her sweetness reached and breached him. Q was going to snap out, but then her right hand grasped his, and he was freely offered access. 

Q realized he was shaking just slightly. What Deanna and her paramour were _both_ offering him wasn't anything compared to what he and Jean-Luc shared, and yet...it was nice. Warm and tender in its way, and stretched over many, many years of deep friendship. 

Cautiously, he sipped, staying away from memories, and felt the warmth imbue him further as the couple with him kissed. Riker welcomed him for Picard's sake, and Deanna for his own, and both of them were unashamed in any event to show that they loved and were loved. A thought flashed through someone's head that Riker would finally allow Troi to talk him into being naked at the wedding, and for the very first time since the abduction, Q knew a slight trace of genuine amusement. 

Q realized he was squeezing Troi's hand rather hard and eased up before letting her go. Will and Deanna ended their kiss and looked at him with smiles, then sobered by mutual agreement as they all sat up. 

"I managed to talk Austen out of the counter-suit," Riker said, easily changing the subject, a testament to his study of Picard's skills. 

"I feel better," Q said. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome," Troi said, looking into his eyes. Then she smiled and turned to look at Will. "And thank you. Not that I don't share our lawyer's enthusiasm." 

"From what little I've learned so far, Starfleet Intelligence has been talking with the Q we first saw at the hearing for almost two weeks. He claimed he was a member of the Continuum who could no longer 'be a party' to the scheme to undermine Humanity." 

Q snorted. 

"Well, believe it or not," Riker continued, mostly, he suspected, for Deanna's benefit, "there were many people at Command who were equally skeptical of the whole idea. That's when Intelligence slapped 'classified' on the whole thing and started pushing for the hearing." 

"So this was all a ruse to get you and Captain Picard here," Troi mused, looking again at Q. "But why would Qs need a ruse? Why did they need him to return to Earth?" 

"They didn't," Q answered. "I suspect their main purpose was to use the hearing to get me and Picard to talk about our relationship. That seems rather obviously to be a point of interest for them." 

"Could they have taken him merely to question him?" Riker asked, not bothering to pretend he wasn't hoping fiercely for an affirmative. 

Q shrugged, not bothering to hide his angry concern, "I doubt it. They were more than curious, they were...hungry." 

Riker looked into the fear on Q's face and was abruptly not only certain about the rightness of his choice, but also glad that he'd gotten into the captain's bed last night. He hadn't wanted to like Q, but he did want, fiercely, to like Jean-Luc's husband, for all the risk involved. 

But he wasn't going to push it. With a nod reflecting his own anger and worries, he got out of the bed and headed towards the door, thinking about the quick shower and breakfast he'd have before he started back in on his Intelligence contacts. 

Then he turned. 

"Q, would you be willing to stay here on the Enterprise until we have some sort of lead?" 

"It will do us little good to find any word of him if you've exhausted yourself in the meantime," Troi agreed gently. 

Q scowled. He wanted to get _out_ of here and look for Jean-Luc. 

But he had no idea where to go. 

"I'm going to the Continuum first," he said, only then thinking of it. "I want to see if anyone knew anything or knows anything about this." 

"Is anyone likely to help you?" Troi asked neutrally. 

Q shrugged again, and realized his Human body was tensing up. The energy he'd gained during the night was focusing on his anxiety. He needed to _do_ something. "The Continuum won't be concerned about me and Jean-Luc, but they will be annoyed that its outcasts have defied its rules. I'll see what I can get by way of good police action." He looked over at Riker. "Then I'll return." He raised a hand and snapped, flashing out. 

  
The clinic was closed up at this time of night, shutters over its windows, a padlock on the door. 

The road was deserted as well, and poorly-maintained. Traffic was diminishing every year, it seemed. 

There was a vending machine full of sodas, and a comfortable swing on the porch, the perfect setting for having a quiet moment to one's self, if staring at sunsets and contemplating eternity were your cup of tea. 

But right now there were no sunsets, only dark and dusty sky and surfaces, the apathy of going out because it was simply intolerable to stay in. 

Q did not take a soda from the machine, but he did sit on the swing. 

And waited. 

  
Julia Austen returned from Starfleet Command well after the end of Beta Shift, her feet plainly dragging, and an air of defeat hanging over her like an animated storm cloud. At her side, Data looked less physically tired, but even more emotionally drained. 

Despite everyone's anxiety, Riker ordered Austen to eat and freshen up and Data to rest before the staff meeting, held at 23:00. 

"Van Jos and Harrison have both managed to squirm out of the worst of it," Austen reported to the assembled command crew in the conference room. "Intelligence has decided to 'review the incident' for information helpful to further encounters with the Q and so it needs Van Jos and Harrison's detailed reports. After that, I think the whole thing will be stuff in a file and they'll be told to behave better." 

"Lieutenant Austen's account of the proceedings is somewhat glib," Data said without censure, "but essentially accurate. The primary concern at Command now seems to be the retrieval of the captain." He paused, uncertain what to tell the others of Austen's long discussion about the nature of Captain Picard's belief in the 'afterlife,' and of the great effect it had had in silencing any further comments about the 'inappropriateness' of his relationship with Q. He decided, in .087 seconds, that he would discuss the matter in private with Commander Riker, and allow the first officer to distribute the information as he saw fit. 

"One significant change did occur in Starfleet's assessment of the Q species," he said instead. "Command has decided to recognize the difference between members of the Q affiliated with the Continuum and those not affiliated. For recognition of the distinction, Q or the captain's opinion on the matter will be required." 

Riker, LaForge, Crusher and Troi met each other's eyes a moment as the import of such recognition and trust in Q and the captain sank in, then Austen cleared her throat. 

"It was helpful that I was able to convey your message that Q would be working in cooperation with the Enterprise to retrieve Captain Picard. And speaking of which...where is Q now?" 

"Looking for help in the Continuum," Riker said, then went on to explain Q's hope of "police action." 

In the pause afterwards, LaForge spoke: "I reconfigured the sensors to detect _any_ abnormal energy readings, to keep track of the 'normal' ones as well. And, I'm not sure, but I think I may have found something." 

Instantly, he had the room's attention. He stood up uncomfortably and went to the room's main display. 

"Like I said, this is all completely uncertain, but I did notice a strong fluctuation in the lower G-rang emissions of our own star." 

"G-range?" Crusher asked. 

LaForge shook his head and called up the display. It looked to the doctor like a brain-wave pattern that spiked in the middle. 

"G-range emissions aren't something we usually concern ourselves with," LaForge said. "Most of the time, we don't even add them in to navigational computations, as they're really only light particle emissions without enough energy to register any influence on Federation propulsion systems even at their highest recorded readings. I mean, even within this spike, we're talking negligible energy output." 

"G-range emissions are usually the by-product of nuclear fusion only at a solar scale," Data added. "A spike like that is known to be caused by fusion occurring within a pocket of increased hydrogen intake, not uncommon within the continuous but unregulated nuclear action within a star." 

"Yes, but that's just it. This spike occurred without any correlation I can find to the solar activity at the time." He took a breath, then called up another, very similar, G-range emission display that bore a much earlier stardate. "I got this from the logs of the Enterprise-D, " he said. "This spike occurred at the very same instant that we were all pulled into Q's Robin Hood scenario." He called up another display, with yet another spike. "And this one occurred during the captain's tenure in Sickbay, when Doctor Crusher was treating him for his injuries by the Lenarians." 

"A time when he says he met Q again," Riker filled in, his excitement as plain as everyone else's. 

"Right! And _this_ is the reading I got when we first encountered Q." A series of spikes showed in the final display. "And, as you remember, there was no sun around when we ran into Q's power grid." 

"If we could determine the actual position of the G-range in relation to the ship, we might be able to determine their cause," Data said. 

LaForge frowned in frustration. "I'm having a problem with that part. But I was hoping, if you'd help me..." 

"Data, you help Geordi in Engineering. I'm getting on the horn with Starfleet Command about getting the Terran Sensor Net to search for G-range fluctuations along with us. Troi," he met her eyes with concern, "you see what Beverly has to say about your energy levels." 

Crusher's face grew instantly concerned, and Deanna bit her lip. It was getting harder and harder to hide anything from him. 

As the conference broke up, the counselor found her arm held firmly as her body was steered towards Sickbay. 

  
“Hello, Q." 

"Q," he said in return, cautiously. "It's been a while." 

The Q who was also the "mother" to his "son" stepped up on the porch and leaned against the railing. Her Starfleet uniform fit her snugly, and even now he admired her bearing and poise. It was something she had in common with his husband: that regal arrogance that compelled attention. 

"You weren't expecting me," she said. 

"I thought, perhaps, Amanda." 

Q nodded. "She's babysitting. She wanted to come, but she's still quite weak. It was really rather amazing that you and your Human were able to rescue her." 

"His name is Jean-Luc." 

"I know that! Do you think for a moment --" She cut herself off and stood up, hands on her hips. "I still hate you for doing this to me." 

"You're the one who wanted to raise him on your own!" 

"Only for a while! I had no idea how fragile he'd be! How long he would take to develop! How dangerous that sort of power combined with an almost _Human_ frailty would make him!" 

"A thousand years is your idea of 'a little while?'" 

"You're thinking in mortal terms. And why shouldn't you be? Look at you! Drained of your energy while you poured it into his veins. Whatever could you have been thinking of?" 

"That I didn't want to live without him." 

"And you've got your wish! If they kill him, even accidentally, you'll _die._ Do you realize that, Q?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, do you realize what will happen if he stops being willing to share himself with you?" 

"Yes." 

"You'll die if you can't join with --" 

"I GET IT!" 

She broke away, stomping off the porch all together and walking out on to the road. He watched, unsurprised, until she stopped. When she turned around and headed back, his eyes were wide. 

"I don't want my child not to know you," she said flatly. "I just wanted him to be Q before you started filling him up with your ideals." 

"I know," he said. "That's why I let you have him." 

"It wasn't just to clear the path to your Human...Jean-Luc?" she added at the look on his face. 

"I would have chased him with Junior in my arms, if I'd needed to." 

She used the heel of her Starfleet boot to dig a groove into the dry soil, and then she finally asked: 

"What is it about him, anyway?" 

"That's what they want to know," he accused, her words poking at his open wound. 

"They want to know so they can get it themselves," she replied, walking now to the bottom of the steps and looking up at him without rancor. "I want to know because...we've known each other for five billion years, Q." 

Q nodded. "You're my oldest friend. We might go an eon or two without speaking, but I can't imagine the universe without you in it." 

"Is that why you forgave me," she asked, "after I stood by and did nothing during your exile?" 

Q smiled narrowly. "Who says I've forgiven you for that?" 

She nodded back wryly. "Indeed." She turned away from him slightly, and a pre-dawn desert breeze blew her hair slightly back and up off her shoulders. "So then, what is it?" 

Q frowned, almost spoke, made a helpless gesture with his hands, sagged slightly against the back of the swing. "I don't know. I can't just...sum it up for you. I see myself in him, but better. I am loved by him, constantly surprised by him. I ask and I ask and I take and yet he tells me I give him what he needs. He terrifies me. He excites me. I've spent two Human years with him, Q, and not known a _second's_ boredom, do you realize that? Everything is more beautiful because he shares in it with me. The whole universe is remade because it includes him." Q growled, stood up himself and stomped off the porch to end up pacing beside her on the desert ground. "He makes me happy." 

"And that's worth dying for, is it?" 

Q stopped, drew himself up, and looked at her with his entire consciousness. "Yes, it is." 

She didn't flinch. "You realize that's why they took him? They want what you get out of him." 

He did flinch. "It doesn't work like that." 

"Is that what he'll tell them?" 

"Probably." 

She frowned, crossing her arms, but he realized she was only thinking hard. "Do you know why they were kicked out of the Continuum?" 

"No, I wasn't there." 

She snorted. "You rarely are." 

"Can we have this argument some other time?" 

"They picked this pre-industrial civilization in the Urangon Cluster and set themselves up as gods. They got the bright idea of demanding sentient sacrifices, and the population was eventually wiped out." 

"And people think I'm a handful." 

"When the Continuum demanded that the population be restored, the five Qs in question refused to recognize the Continuum's authority and were exiled. It took the rest of us quite a considerable amount of effort to find the sacrificed population inside their temporal paradox." 

"Sounds like I missed out on quite the party." 

"They'll destroy him and not think twice about it." 

"I get the idea!" 

"Yelling at me won't solve any of your problems." 

Q took in and held a deep breath, let it out, looked at her. "Are you going to help me get back the only thing I really need, or not?" 

She flinched this time. "You chose him. Over me." 

"When you find what I found, you'll do the same. Over anybody. Over anything." 

"I'm not looking for what you found!" 

Q smiled ruefully. "I wasn't looking for it either." 

Q's reply was cut off as something she saw over Q's shoulder grabbed her attention. They turned together to watch the dark shape travel towards them up the road, kicking up a dawn-lit trail of pink dust behind it. It took several minutes to reach them, spewing its toxins into the air until, with a roar and a cough, it died right next to the clinic's rusty mailbox. 

A blond-haired Q opened the driver's side door of the pick-up with a great squeak of the hinges and stepped out, his Starfleet uniform obscured by the draping of a light blue labcoat. 

"Someone here need a doctor?" 

  
B _eep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

"Alarm off," Captain Jean-Luc Picard grunted, rolling over onto his back and opening his heavy eyes to the dim starlight of his quarters. 

Repairs to the Enterprise-D's engines were going well. The encounter with the Children of Tama had left him feeling the full weight of his captaincy; he was pleased enough at these few days of low warp on their way to the Adralot colony while LaForge conducted his usual efficient repairs on the ship. 

He allowed himself the luxury of rising slowly, and sat up in bed as he ran a hand over his scalp. His eyes fell upon the knife which had belonged to the brave alien captain who had given his life merely to extend a greeting to the Federation from his people. The sharp grief of it was gone now, retreated to the dull ache he felt for so many briefly known heroes in his life. Dathon had become another dimly known alien, a piece of insight into the puzzle that was the universe. 

So many puzzles, he thought with a mix of awe and excitement. From his first moment taking command of this ship, in a way the Stargazer, for all its deep-space exploration, had never afforded, his life aboard the Enterprise-D was slowly unraveling mystery after mystery. 

He smiled, thinking of the very first mission: a trip to Farpoint Station. Nothing much had happened. He'd gotten to know his people, enjoyed their efficiency and enthusiasm, and then met and been quite satisfied with Commander Riker. And then the commander's concerns about the "magical" station had suddenly and without warning presented themselves in a large alien and lost mate. They'd rescued the Bandi leader, given the trapped alien energy, and watched both aliens returning to the depths of space from which they came. It hadn't been much, really, in terms of adventure, but it had been a good beginning. 

And now here he was, several years later with this crew performing better than his greatest hopes (the sort of hopes he allowed himself, at any rate) had suggested they might, enjoying a lazy rise from bed. 

He stretched then, feeling the health of his body, and then sensed a slight stirring below. He shook it off as he rose and headed for the shower. It wasn't _that_ lazy a morning. 

He was dressed and getting coffee from the replicator when his door chimed. 

"Come." 

"Good morning, Jean-Luc," Beverly smiled as she breezed in. "Plum jelly for our croissants this morning, if you please." 

"Aye, aye, Doctor, sir," he replied with a grin, busying himself with the plates and cups a moment before sitting with her and sipping the hot, bitter liquid he enjoyed in the mornings. Something about Earl Grey just didn't go with fuzzy morning thoughts. 

"So, any plans for while we're stuck at impulse drive?" she asked him. 

"Yes. I'm going to help Data and Mr. Kelson in a visual inspection of the warp inversion manifolds they've been working on. It's still very much at the experimental stage, but I think the results might be quite startling to those who've never taken the time to consider the implications of a force polaron emission --" 

"I meant _fun_ plans." 

He blinked at her, cup poised on its way to his lips. "I thought I'd practice my flute some." 

Beverly rolled her eyes. "That settles it. We're having dinner this evening, fancy dress, in my quarters." 

"How fancy?" 

She stood and whispered, "Improvise." 

He smiled at her comfortably. She smiled back and walked out. 

He cleaned up the plates, wondering at the sudden invitation. He and Beverly had been enjoying each other's company more than ever of late. Perhaps she had an interest in something even more. 

_Don't ruin it with guesses, Jean-Luc. Take it as it comes._

Still, there was a little more purpose in his stride as he walked to the turbolift and called out, "Bridge." 

Nothing on alpha watch really seemed to demand his attention, and after the mandatory tour of the bridge -- during which Riker met his eyes with some amusement -- he headed down to the secondary Engineering lab where Data and Mr. Kelson already had their experiment going. Several hours of watching monitors and tossing theories around later, they called it a day, allowing Kelson, who had been up all night configuring the system, to get some rest. 

Alone with his second officer, Picard helped put the equipment away, then stared at an unfamiliar instrument. He noticed Data was looking at him with an air almost of amusement. 

"What is this, Mr. Data?" 

"It is a phase inhibitor," Data replied. "Geordi and I designed it by following some of the schematics he had already created for his VISOR." 

"I see." 

Data held his hand out for the instrument, and Picard obligingly placed it within his cool grasp. Yet, even as he completed the simple maneuver, he became aware that something seemed a little off. 

"Mr. Data? Are you all right?" 

The yellow eyes looked at him almost hesitantly, almost...fearfully. "I am fine," the android's voice murmured, obviously unsteady. 

"Data, if there's a problem --" 

"There is no problem, sir. I mean..." Data turned from him and put the instrument inside a tool case. His back stiffened even as Picard watched in concern, and when the android turned, he was his usual self. "I am sorry for the distraction, sir. I am fine." 

"Data," Picard said softly, wondering if he should talk to the Counselor or LaForge about this. "I hope by now you've come to feel that you can talk to me about things that trouble you." 

Data's eyes flickered, looked away, looked back. "You have always maintained a level of privacy, sir, upon which I would hesitate to intrude." 

"I'm not so private that I don't wish to take an interest in the concerns of my officers." 

Data seemed very slightly to flinch. His eyes were clear now, and he met Picard's stare with the same lack of emotion which, of course, he always felt. 

Or didn't feel. 

Picard found he was very confused, watching Data become so much like he had been years ago, when they first met: more machine than friend. 

"I regret that I have caused you concern, sir. Please overlook my lack of --" 

"Data! What _is_ it?" 

The eyes warmed somehow, just slightly, and when he spoke again, the unsteadiness had returned. "I am uncertain how to proceed, sir." 

"With what?" 

"I find I am...interested in pursuing something...in pursuing someone, sir." 

Picard couldn't help the smile that came to his face, even as he decided that this was definitively a matter for Counselor Troi. He need only act the understanding father for a moment, until he could mention her name, and the moment would be well resolved. "Whoever they are, Mr. Data, I'm sure they must have something worthwhile to be considered by you. And no one worthwhile could fail to see the advantages you bring with you. They may not return your feel -- interest, but they could not help but be flattered by it." 

There, that would do it. He opened his mouth to mention Troi. 

"Would you feel flattered, sir?" 

"Me?" It was out, loudly, before Picard could stop it. Data swayed away from him slightly, and looked as though he were braced for a slap to his face. Picard tried to calm his expression and his heartrate. What had he just said about worthiness? He would never be so smug again. 

"You do not seem to feel flattered, sir," Data said, almost sadly. 

_Thank God he has no real emotions,_ Picard couldn't help thinking. 

"On the contrary," the captain said, diplomacy on full alert, "I am flattered, Mr. Data. Even though I must point out to you that I never become involved romantically with members of my crew." 

"So absolute, sir?" Data whispered, and suddenly Picard was aware of how close they were standing. The android swayed towards him, and there seemed to come with him a gentle wave of heat. In something like shock, he saw Data's pale hand come up and rest lightly on his shoulder, felt the heat there too, and a gentleness that made him feel suddenly filled with gratitude. 

_To offer himself like this, like a child. To be so unafraid. A lesson to us all._

As gently as he could, Picard smiled and stepped slightly away, allowing Data's hand to fall from his shoulder. 

"I am, very greatly, flattered, Data. And I hope this does nothing to interfere with our relationship, professional or personal, in future. I cannot help but think that Counselor Troi would be greatly pleased to hear that you're interested in pursuing this sort of relationship. She will doubtlessly be encouraging you along this direction, perhaps helping you in selecting a more suitable object of your attentions." 

"Counselor Troi," Data said flatly. "Yes, sir." He changed again, became simply his second officer again. "Thank you for your understanding in this matter, sir." 

"Certainly," Picard said, smiling broadly now and walking with no haste towards the door. "Certainly. I'll see you on the bridge, Mr. Data." 

The android nodded, and Picard made it out into the corridor, where he allowed himself a sigh of relief. There was no one around. 

_What was that all about, anyway?_ he wondered, heading now towards the turbolift. _Has he some sort of glitch in his programming?_ Then Picard felt slightly ashamed of himself. Data was allowed to have impulses even if they had no basis in emotion, artificial or otherwise. 

Inside the turbolift, Picard decided to make up for the "unworthy" thought, and checked in with Commander Riker. 

"I'll be a few minutes more before coming to the bridge," he said after he had made contact. "Can the report wait until then?" 

"Of course, sir," Will's voice replied cheerfully. 

Picard redirected the lift to Troi's quarters. He would tell her what had happened and she could take it from there. 

  
Crusher turned from the display with her trademark worried smile in place. "It's not that I don't understand, Deanna. I even approve. I'm only saying you can't do it again any time soon." 

"I don't think Q intends to make a habit of it. And, Beverly, it's not as if it actually did any harm to me." 

"Your readings indicate a significant drop in neural energy." 

"But no more than I would show after staying up late for a couple of nights, or engaging in some prolonged stressful activity. I'm tired, not damaged." 

"Worried that our little trooper can't pull her own weight?" a familiar voice mocked. "Or only that she's having to pull mine?" 

The two women turned to the tall form as he learned against the central diagnostic display, arms crossed, wry expression not hiding his sustained weariness, and they gave him two very different versions of a welcoming smile. 

"I'm only concerned that a member of the crew I treat understands her limitations." 

"So no more snuggles from the good counselor," Q said with a dramatic sigh, then a leer. "Any chance of a little TLC from the good doctor?" 

Beverly answered with a perfection of steadiness: "If that's what's needed." 

For an instant, the mask slipped. 

_So,_ she thought even as he was recovering, clearing the vulnerability from his eyes even as he was raising his dark brows at her, _that's what Jean-Luc gets to see. Interesting._

"I should have known," he was saying now, "that you'd do anything to get your hands on my body." 

It was too weak an attempt to bother deflecting, so she merely changed the subject. Q knew her offer was genuine, and that it would remain so. 

"Were you able to get any help from the Continuum?" 

"Yes, actually." A look of genuine surprise flashed over his eyes, and both women realized his exhaustion had damaged his control. Even his theatrical stance looked very slightly wilted. "From several of them, in the end. They're...looking around." 

"We may have found something ourselves," Troi said, standing up from the biobed. Beverly's stimulant had made her feel quite well again, and in a few hours she would have a good night's sleep. "Commander LaForge wishes to see you in Engineering." 

Q frowned in further surprise, then snapped, and the three of them found themselves next to LaForge, Data, Riker, and Austen. 

With surprising smoothness, the assembled officers briefed Q on the G-range spikes and were more than a little gratified at the surprise he showed, even though all he said was: 

"Very impressive for a group of primates." 

"You knew about this?" Riker asked 

Q looked reluctant, then admitted, "It's a tag the Continuum puts on Qs it wants to...keep tabs on. I hadn't realized I had it when I met you at Farpoint. How...interesting." Q's eyes glittered dangerously a moment, but it was obvious that the discovery wasn't enough to distract him from the matter at hand. "The thing of it is, we detect the tag in quite a different way. Simply looking for the light emissions as though they were naturally occurring has never occurred to us...though why should it?" Q added defensively. 

"So, they won't be able to stop making the emissions even if they realize we've found out about them?" LaForge asked. 

"No, although they're obviously using the sun's energy to disguise them, and would doubtlessly come up with something better if they realize they've been spotted." Q's eyes grew unfocused, and a moment passed while Q's outline seemed to grow a little fainter. He did not become transparent, but he seemed suddenly to lose his own weight, to become an image instead of an entity, and when his voice spoke, it was very slightly muffled. "I'm getting help doing a little tracking." Q snapped back into full force, his eyes burning. "The sun in the Telmoc System has had a series of spikes at the right time." 

"We can get there in three point six hours at warp nine point eight," Data reported. 

"We make a straight line for that system, and the Qs will simply take him somewhere else, probably outside the galaxy," Riker said, looking at Q. "Right?" 

Q nodded. "Same thing, I'm afraid, if I take us there. I'm asking for more help, but the problem is, well, it's hard to sneak up on someone who's omnipotent." 

"How close would we need to be before you could...jump them?" Riker asked. 

Q grew faint again, consulting, then regained himself. Everyone quietly noticed how tired he was starting to look, and Crusher wondered if he weren't still leaning against the wall with his arms crossed simply because it was easier than standing erect. "It's not so much a question of spatial proximity, but of surprising them. Getting the initial upper hand is all-important when Qs do battle. If I can get into the system and mess about with the sun's energy, they'll be distracted, but if I try to do it from here, the disturbance my thoughts will cause will warn them." 

"So we need to get into the system without alerting them that we've found them," Troi said. "Which means we need to make it look like we're there for some other reason." 

"You have something in mind?" Riker asked, his tone already approving. Q felt a pulse of shared pleasure from the crew at the conversation's subtext, and watched helplessly as it increased his need for Picard by a factor of ten. 

"It's standard Starfleet protocol to conduct a search pattern when a crewmember is missing," Troi pointed out. 

"We'd need to go out a little farther than is required, and we still couldn't head right in their direction," Austen said. 

"A standard circular pattern begun at eight-five-three-mark-oh-one-one would be sufficient to make the Telmoc System seem an inevitable part of our search pattern," Data said. "At warp two, we would reach the system in sixteen-point-seven-three hours." 

"And faster than that is not going to fool anyone," Riker sighed, looking at Q. 

"I'm telling the Continuum when to be ready," Q replied, growing faintly insubstantial again. "Yes, and in the meantime, they're setting up something of a dragnet." An extremely unpleasant smile crossed the entity's face. "And some comets are being prepared." 

"Comets?" Troi asked when Q had "returned." 

Q shrugged, swaying just slightly when his weight was shifted against the wall. "Incarceration, my dear. Seems our little band of bad Qs have finally managed to piss off the right people." 

"Bridge to Commander Riker," Lieutenant Kellman's voice announced over the com. 

"Go ahead." 

"Sir, there's an unusual build-up of phonic energy in a class-five nebula five light years from our position. The energy grid it's creating is familiar. I think you and Mr. Data should definitely look at it." 

"On our way," Riker said, nodding at all the others to accompany him. They left quickly, no one commenting on Q's choice to ride with them in the turbolift, and soon found themselves in front of Science Station Two, where Kellman was showing the latest sensor displays. 

"The photonic grid is similar to the Q-grid the Enterprise-D found near Farpoint, sir," the lieutenant reported, his eyes going with a mix of unease and curiosity to the tall entity leaning nonchalantly against an inactive display panel. 

"A red herring?" Riker mused. 

"We probably would have gone for it, too," LaForge said. 

"We may have to still," Troi said with irritation. "They're going to get suspicious if we ignore it." 

"But it's directly away from them!" Riker groused. 

"But it's not completely away from the flight plan we were about to take," Austen noted, calling up a display on a panel Q wasn't using for a prop. 

Data nodded and joined in: "We could begin the search pattern in this direction, seeming to head for the nebula, then get within range of sensors here," he pointed, "and then continue the search pattern as though discounting the photonic energy as non-Q. It would add only seventy-six minutes to our flight plan." 

The possible death-or-dismemberment sentence of those extra minutes settled around them as Riker slowly nodded. "We can't afford to arouse suspicion." He looked at Q, who simply nodded. 

Riker firmed his uniquely-off-center stance and walked to the captain's chair, indicating with a casual hand his own chair for Q to sit in, if he chose. "Helm, set course at eight-five-three-mark-oh-one-one and start the search pattern, warp two." 

"Aye, sir," Austen responded, settling in behind the controls. 

"As the doctor here," Crusher said quietly to Riker, looking across at Q as he did settle into the first officer's chair, "I'd like to point out the importance of getting proper rest between here and the Telmoc system." 

"I'll see to it that everyone gets the time for sleep that they need," Riker said carefully, then looked at Q. 

"Don't be worried about me," Q said with an airy smile belied by suspiciously blood-shot eyes. "I've ways to pass the time." 

Riker left it alone. "Let's go ahead and run the full range of scans of that nebula," he ordered Data. "And try to come up with something original, like we're really interested." 

"I understand, sir," the android responded. "Shall I attempt to devise a scan which would expose the lattice as non-Q-energy?" 

Though the question was not meant for him, Q shook his head. "Don't bother, Data. It's easily done." He snapped his fingers and a read-out appeared on Data's console. 

"An intriguing approach," Data commented, looking over the parameters of the scan. 

"Use it when we get close, Data," Riker ordered, then continued quietly: "Q, thank you, but unless you can think of anything else..." 

Q shrugged, but his voice was too soft to carry any further than beyond Crusher, except perhaps to Data's ears. "Even now I'm being asked to leave the bridge. Will my torments never end?" 

Riker frowned. Q looked horrible. "Isn't there anything we can do for you?" 

Q snorted. 

"How about your fellow Q? Can't they --" 

"Riker, listen carefully. Picard has...something of myself that cannot be replicated or replaced." 

"But Deanna --" 

"Did all she can, believe me, and despite Bev's generous offer, there's nothing more you little people can help me with. I'm just going to go have a lie-down, all right? I'll be back before we make it to the Telmoc System." Without snapping his fingers, he was gone. 

Riker looked at Crusher, then sighed heavily and sat back in his chair. Troi, who had been standing out of the way, sat down at Riker's station and told them both quietly, "Don't worry. I know where he's gone." 

  
Troi answered her door with a pleased surprise at the captain's chime. "Hello, sir," she said, looking delighted with his arrival. "I was just about to treat myself to some chocolate. Any chance I can tempt you into joining me?" 

Her words echoed the reason for his visit, and he replied rather ruefully, "I have come on a somewhat professional capacity, I'm afraid." 

"As you like, Captain," she replied, inviting him in by stepping back. He walked towards one of her "patient/counselor" chairs and sat down as she settled before him. She was wearing her blue dress today, and her hair seemed a little more curly even than usual, her lovely face even more artfully on display. He wondered vaguely if she'd begun a new relationship. 

"This concerns Commander Data," he began. "I'm sure you'll be interested to learn, if you do not already know, that he's expressed an interest in pursuing a romantic relationship again." 

She smiled. "It isn't very long since his last attempt. I'm pleased he didn't feel discouraged by his initial set-back." 

"On the contrary, he seems to have been encouraged by it." 

Her eyebrows raised, waiting. 

Picard forced himself not to change his tone. "He's expressed an interest in pursuing such a relationship with me." 

"With you, Captain?" 

"Yes." He gestured vaguely. "I pointed out to him that I do not involve myself with members of my crew, and suggested that he might concentrate on a more suitable object in future. I think, really, Counselor, that he could benefit from your guidance." 

She settled back slightly in her chair, her hands clasped in her lap, and gave him one of her professionally intent stares. He tried not to brace himself against it. 

"How did it make you feel, Captain? When Data made this offer?" 

"Uncomfortable," he said easily, though he knew she would want more. 

She smiled, knowing that he knew. 

Picard sighed slightly. "I was, actually, flattered, but a little...confused." 

"Confused?" 

"Data and I don't have that sort of relationship. In fact, if anything, I would say I've thought of him as a protégé, a son, even. I thought he saw me in a paternal light, a replacement for the lamentably absent Dr. Soong. It seems quite...improper for him to have felt otherwise about me. I'm somewhat disconcerted to realize I've read things so incorrectly." 

She considered this a while, her dark hair glittering softly in the indirect lighting of her office. "I don't think you need to be concerned with having 'misread' Data, Captain. He cares for you greatly, even if his positronic brain isn't supposed to be able to have 'Human' emotions. It only makes sense that as his own brand of feelings develop, he's going to have 'emotional' impulses which would seem to the rest of us unexpected and even out of place. I know that the last thing he would want is to have alienated you in any way." 

"He hasn't, believe me, Counselor." 

"Good." She smiled, dazzlingly. "Then I will speak to him, and we'll get at whatever might be causing this sudden interest in romance. In the meantime, Captain, please, if you would, join me in something." 

She rose suddenly and retrieved a small box with a transport stamp on it. "I have to share this with someone or I'll feel too guilty to enjoy it." 

Picard, greatly relieved that the Data matter had been handled so easily, felt in the mood to celebrate, and smiled as she opened the box. A small cake was nestled inside, its dark topping suggesting rich chocolate. 

"It's a cheesecake," she explained. "My father got me addicted to them when I was a child." 

"Cheesecake?" he asked almost teasingly. "Isn't chocolate enough?" 

"Chocolate is almost enough, Captain, but man does not live by it alone. Isn't that how it goes?" 

"Close enough," he conceded, laughing as she cut two slices onto china plates and handed him a serving and a fork with a slight flourish. 

They sat again, on the sofa, keeping away from the professionalism of the chairs, and tried their cake. 

"Good lord," Picard found himself saying, laughing in surprise. 

Deanna beamed. "It is good, isn't it? And don't ask me about the recipe. I have a friend who makes them and she swears she'll die before she reveals the secret." 

Picard would have said something in reply, but his mouth was full of more cheesecake. The pleasure of the cake -- and he found this particularly odd as he was not partial to cheesecake -- was almost more than he could credit was coming from a food. The flavor exploded and yet soothed, and he found it had intoxicated him slightly, the way a rich source of protein could disrupt the body chemistry of a starving man. He found he was no longer interested in sitting quite so upright on the sofa, and shared an almost dreamy smile with Troi as she finished her own serving. 

Sighing, she retrieved his plate from near-numb fingers and set his and hers down on her small coffee table, then leaned back and enjoyed with him several long, quiet moments of shared pleasure. 

"It's at moments like this," she said softly, "that I can hear the ship's engines." 

Of course, the engines were always to be heard, but he knew she meant that she became aware of them, and nodded lazily. 

"It's soothing, isn't it?" he mumbled. 

"Did you mean it?" 

"Mean what?" 

"What you told Data. About not getting involved with members of your crew." 

Picard tried to think, then just answered honestly: "It's not something I've ever done. I think it would be too difficult to command someone I was in love with." 

"And that's what 'getting involved' means to you? There has to be love?" 

He thought of Phillipa, who'd been so nice to him during his Stargazer court-martial, and admitted, "No, I suppose not." Then he thought of Beverly. "Though, perhaps..." 

"Yes?" 

"To have someone on my ship, someone so close, perhaps it would need to be love. And then, they probably couldn't be on my ship anymore." 

"That doesn't leave a lot of room for compromise." 

"No, it doesn't." 

Troi was silent for a while, then, "Have you considered the possibility of a more practical arrangement?" 

"Practical?" 

"A little stress-relief, Captain. A warm shoulder and a mind to engage yours intellectually." 

_A fuck-buddy? Good lord, where did_ that _come from? I think Louis may have used it once. He'd be so pleased to know I remembered._ "It's not the sort of relationship I've ever found satisfying, Counselor." 

"It sounds rather lonely, sir. In fact, do you know on Betazed you'd be considered a pervert?" 

"What?" 

"It's true, sir. You've suppressed what are very basic needs for some time now, almost to the point of not noticing any more. That isn't very healthy. My mother, I know, has irritated you with her...outspoken ways. But, I assure you, on my homeworld you would be inundated with women and men who would feel great concern over your lack of companionship." 

Picard found himself momentarily made speechless by his image of a large mental Horga'hn hanging over his head while a dozen Mrs. Trois came at him from all sides. Thinking of the object, fortunately, reminded him of Risa and the extremely boring vacation he'd once had there. Days of reading in the sun without incident -- once he'd wrapped the little statue in a blanket -- poured over him, and he found his voice again. "Thank you for the warning, Counselor." 

"Please, sir. I am concerned." 

With great effort, he turned towards her, noticing the way she was sprawled back upon the cushions, as though she were posing for a portrait. His senses were still buzzing from the delectation of the cake. "I assure you, Counselor, there's no..." He found he had run out of words as her fingers lightly trailed the back of his hand. It was not a suggestive touch so much as an offering, and he found himself filled with tenderness. 

"Deanna," he said, knowing his voice was low, even husky. "I assure you, as much as you mean to me, this is not what I want from you." 

"I respect your privacy, sir, but I feel your loneliness." 

He looked deeply into her dark eyes and saw the offer made complete: no possibility of censure, nothing but the desire to help, to comfort, to be what he needed. 

Not thinking about it, he leaned forward until he could kiss her cheek, then leaned back and smiled. "You mean so much to my command, but you do not need to fill _every_ need of the crew." 

A small smile played with her lips. "It's not a need I would be willing to serve for the entire crew, sir." 

He laughed, easily, even though part of him couldn't help thinking it was more than a trifle odd to have two such offers on the same day. Had someone stuck a "kiss me" sign on his back? 

"Heaven forbid," he added, grateful the moment now had passed. It occurred to him to be angry or annoyed, but he hadn't the heart for it. They both sat up, a comfortable silence between them, and in a moment and after a few more words, he stood and left for the bridge. 

  
Q sighed, stretching his stripped Human form out along Picard's narrow bed, breathing in once again the smell of him, feeling the slight trace of his warmth which permeated the whole room but which clung in some concentration to the comforter. He was on his stomach, and though part of him kept constant patrol of the area, he relaxed as completely as he could. Q had said she would keep an eye on the ship. If there were a true threat, she would warn him, and if she caught him at this, he wouldn't have to worry about being embarrassed. There were some advantages to having known someone for five billion years. She'd pretty much seen him do everything by now, and she already knew better than almost anyone how he felt about his...oh, even to think of the word was a small pain that wanted to grow. 

Sighing again, very quietly, Q took his limp Human organ in his hand and closed his eyes. Part of his consciousness he anchored into this room, this reality which had created his lover. The rest he allowed to slip into the tidepool of memory, and forget... 

  
Warmth and softness, strength and, yet, there was such need to be found, such care in the embrace, he felt as though he had been made delicate through the act of near-worship even while he himself embraced, even as he adored. 

"Did the battle drill go well?" 

"The crew performed beyond expectations. Ohhhhh, please. Kiss me there again." 

"There" was a new spot, directly below his left nipple. Human hot spots were always changing. With the softest of laughs, Q fit his lips to the fragile skin above the nerve-ending and sucked, filled with pleasure as Jean-Luc cried out. 

  
Q found himself struggling in the sudden chill of the room. It was too much, too empty even with his Q memory, and yet he felt himself drinking it in, air to his starved lungs, not really what he needed, and yet too close to what he craved to be denied. 

  
“I love you, Jean-Luc." 

"It's incredible to hear you say that. Say it again." 

"I love you, Jean-Luc." 

"I love you, Q." Picard reached inside him, felt his icy grief. "What is it?" that deep voice asked him in the dark. "Can't you tell me?" 

  
No, no. Not that memory. Another, quickly. 

  
"Fuck me, Q. Hurry." 

"Yes. Jean-Luc." The beautiful legs rose and spread around him, wrapping him in tight. The sweat on his pale skin shimmered in the starlight. 

_You're not hurrying._

_I can't help it. You're so perfect. I'm drowning._

_I've got you. Feel my hands holding you?_

_Hold me tighter._

_Better?_

_Tighter._

_I don't want to hurt you._

_Please. Oh, yes, that's it. Oh, you don't know how long I've waited to feel you against me._

_We did this just a few hours ago, Q._

_You know that's not what I mean._

_Yes, I know. I'm sorry. It's just that I very much don't want to cry right now. I just want you to fuck me._

But Q dropped his head to Picard's shoulder, overwhelmed, unable to move further. Picard held him even tighter, tight enough to bruise just slightly, and then rolled them both over before he raised his sculpted body up and lowered the tight heat of himself over Q's erection. Q wasn't able to do more than moan and sob as Picard fucked himself on his cock, his movements a dance, slow at first, seductive if it hadn't already been fulfilling the seduction. His head fell back, his eyes glittering slits below his darkly arched brows. He began to moan, softly, in the rhythm of his movements, and with natural grace his muscled arms rose above his head, twining through the air, and Q cried out his name as a counter-melody. Then his arms came down, rippling fingers over the ridges of his own chest until at last they lit upon his cock and began to stroke the glistening hardness there. Then muscles gathered, straining, and the motion increased, furiously, and Q gripped the sheets to hold on, raising his hips now in the frenetic tempo, trying to be whatever Picard wanted even as he felt his lover surrendering to his request to come completely inside. 

And then in that perfect harmony such things required, they moved into and through each other. 

It was seldom, even now, that they could join so easily, but Q's defenses had been dropping since he'd flashed into the room to find Jean-Luc sprawled on his bed, naked, waiting for him. 

Q had at first only stared in surprise, and Picard had smiled his wickedest smile and lightly stroked his own swelling cock. Q, groaning, had rushed to him, and now, he was still rushing, plunging through Jean-Luc's mind like the intoxication it was: an artwork, a paradise...and then he _was_ Jean-Luc, who had become him as well, and they shared...everything. 

Here they were at last, One with the brightness of their shared essence, of all they were, before them, a dazzling array of identity and memory and thought and being. Picard/Q willed a climax, a release into the fire that would not end until they were exhausted. 

_We're insatiable. More is wished, only all that we are is more than enough._

Picard/Q opened themselves up to whatever would come of them, and then that anchor that Q had affixed jerked him back, a second before he would forget that there was nothing into which his consciousness could journey. 

And he found himself lying on his back on Picard's cold narrow bed, one hand stroking his erection as his hips thrust into the air. He forced it, and came, the bereft sperm splashing back down over his fingers a second before the hand flopped to his side. His breaths would have calmed, had he been able to allow the weeping his body wanted. But he could not bear to listen to his own pathetic cries, and forced, eventually, slow, even inhalations by a Human body he did not want to let go. This flesh and blood was how Picard saw him. Even though it required precious energy to maintain, he would take it to his death, if need be. 

He was conscious enough of his declining resources, however, that he did not snap himself clean, but instead used the shower. After that, he found the black silk clothes he had once left in Picard's drawers as a joking proclamation of cohabitation, and crawled into bed. 

  
Picard felt Worf's gaze on him as he stepped from the turbolift, and nodded as he always did, even though some instinct was warning him that the gaze was somehow different from its norm. Was there a proprietary gleam in those dark, fierce eyes? Worf almost looked ready to growl at him. 

But then he was walking down the ramp, and Worf was staying at his post, as always, and Picard convinced himself that the day's odd experiences had left him slightly paranoid. 

Riker's own blue eyes sparkled warmly as he stood up from the captain's chair. "Not a very eventful shift, sir." 

"Speak for yourself, Number One," he responded with a smile. 

"Too eventful a day to look over our systems report?" 

He smiled, and they walked together into the ready room. Picard noticed that Livingston's tank needed a cleaning, then sat behind his desk and picked up the padd. 

  
Beverly Crusher knew she was probably going to regret this. 

A lot. 

"Computer, release lock, authorization Crusher, Alpha-One-Nine." 

The computer made its acknowledgment noise, then swooshed the doors open. The room beyond was dark, and as she stepped in, gripping the package before her, she thought of being with her grandmother after the explosion, when they had crawled through the wreckage. As Nana had promised, there were no monsters lurking. 

But Nana had never met Q. 

There was nothing in the front room, but she saw the shape in the bed from the connecting doorway. As she neared, she made out one outstretched arm and another hooked under a pillow. 

_I never thought of him wearing pajamas._

"Q? You need to wake up." She touched him as gently as she could on his raised shoulder. 

"I knew you couldn't keep your hands off me." 

"We're only an hour away --" 

"I know that! I know everything! I'm Q!" 

She recoiled from the violence of the words, but did not leave, as she suspected he was hoping. 

"Q, I think I can help you." 

He laughed, an ugly sound that tore at her more than she would have guessed. She noticed abruptly that his Starfleet uniform was lying in a lump at the foot of the bed. 

"Q, after Jack died, I would sometimes dream --" 

"I can't handle Human misery right now." 

"Listen to me. I would sometimes dream of him, and then when I woke up and remembered he was gone, I thought it would kill me. I had Wesley to worry about, my career, my pride, but for a moment, sometimes, I wanted to die rather than wake up and deal with Jack's death." 

Q lay there now quietly. 

"One day, about a month after I knew he was really gone, after Jean-Luc brought his body back, I found two holographic recordings Jack had made. One was to Wesley. I put it in storage. The other was to me. I'm not sure, but I think I may have run over someone and trampled them on the way to the nearest holodeck. He told me..." Her voice wavered just slightly, and she firmed it. "...that he loved me, and that if I were watching the recording that he was dead, and that he was sorry. He said other things I won't bore you with. I must have played that message two hundred times. It made me cry harder than anything, but I found I stopped feeling the shock of his death when I woke up. It helped me. I made one of my own, not long after, for Wesley." 

"When do we get to the part that helps me?" Q snarled. 

She held out the package in her hands. "Jean-Luc made this for me about six months ago. He said if you and he ever disappeared one day, or if something ever happened and he couldn't say goodbye, I was to open it." 

"What does it say?" Q sat up on the bed, and she saw his exhausted eyes burn with interest. 

"I don't know, I haven't read it." 

"Read it?" 

"It's a letter, not a holographic recording. I don't intend to read it, not now, maybe not ever. I want you to read it." 

Q blinked at her. 

"I'm sure somewhere in here he says he loves you, Q. I think it might help you to see that." 

She held the package closer to him, and watched as he took it mechanically. She backed away immediately. "I'll tell Riker you'll be along." And then she left. 

Q looked down at the small box which he opened with a very small application of his powers, not wanting to tear the light blue paper which wrapped it. 

Inside were a few sheets of thick white paper, and the tidy letters of Picard's handwriting. He skimmed the first bit, which talked of Jean-Luc's friendship with Beverly, and what it had meant to know her for so long, etc. There were some words about Wesley, and a request that she convey specific messages to the rest of the crew. Q had begun to worry that this would, in fact, be all, when he got towards the final sheet of parchment. 

_I know you are wondering why I did not say goodbye to you properly. Indeed, it is my hope you will never have to read this letter, that I will be there to say these things to you in person. But I have wondered if perhaps I might forget my manners in the madness that can be my wish to be with Q._

It is a type of madness, Beverly, sweeter and better than any fervor I have known before in a life filled with so many different sorts of passion. I would be frightened, as I have never been, if only I were denied the ability to look at him and feel confident that all is well. 

So, why did I leave with him and not come to wish you well first? I can only imagine it is because we were thinking, as we sometimes are, of nothing but ourselves. I know, as I write this, that someday I will ask him to take me from my life, as I have taken him from his, and we will become something new, he and I. We will do things I do not know, I cannot dream. I see him sometimes, thinking of things he will do when I no longer fill my days with the proud duty of being Captain Picard. When finally he reveals his plans, I think it might be possible, though I hope it is unlikely, that I will simply forget everything in my rush to go with him. 

Be assured that I will see you again, even if I must have Q bring us back in time to do it. You are a great part of my life, Beverly, and you of all people know what it has meant to me to have found Q. Before we have our final parting, I must sit with you over coffee and tell you everything I can about him, about what I am when I am with him. I must describe to you how completely I am myself for being with him, how I would do anything for him, how everything I want involves him. 

I wonder sometimes, "Does Beverly realize how amusing Q can be? Does she know how deeply he cares for things despite billions of years of living in this universe? Would she faint from shock to know that when I tell him I love him, his eyes fill with tears?" I have lost myself and I don't care, and I'm bothered in that lack of care only enough to worry that I might forget to show you the care such a dear friend is due. 

If you are reading this letter, dear friend, then I apologize for my ill manners. But if you are reading this, I know you have a heart to understand the cause. 

Be well and be safe. 

Jean-Luc 

Q did not make any other motion, upon reading to the end of the letter, than to return to the place where he was first mentioned, and begin reading again. 

  
Picard studied himself in the mirror and wound up staring at his own confused frown. 

This was, beyond any doubt, the oddest day he had ever known. He could have sworn Riker was flirting with him, and when he practically fled from his ready room, Data and Worf's eyes had been upon him almost lasciviously. What the hell was going on? 

And now, here he was, dressed up like a prize for the fair, in his best non-military clothing, for a dinner with Beverly. He wasn't feeling up to it, not in the least. He felt, quite frankly, exhausted and grouchy. 

"Computer, what is the location of Dr. Crusher?" 

"Dr. Crusher is in Sickbay." 

"Picard to Crusher." 

"Crusher here. Canceling on me, Jean-Luc?" 

"Well, actually, if you want good company, I'm really not feeling that I can provide it." 

"I bet you're all dressed up already and everything." She sighed, and he hoped she was alone in Sickbay. Was her tone even more flirtatious than Riker's had been? 

"Tell you what, Jean-Luc. Take the evening off and we'll reschedule for tomorrow." 

Relief flooded him, surprising him with its strength. "Thank you. I'll make it up to you tomorrow night, I promise." 

"I'll hold you to it," she said without undertones. "Goodnight." 

"Goodnight." 

Sighing in further relief, he stripped out of the clothes, got into his robe and pajamas, and curled up in bed with _Watership Down._

  
“What are you doing?" "Data" hissed. 

"Troi" looked equally annoyed, but her stare was directed at "Data." 

"We're not going to get anywhere hounding him to death," she pointed out. "Now he feels grateful to her. She can show up at breakfast and we'll see what we'll see." 

"That's hours from now!" "Riker" protested. 

"He's Human and he needs his rest," "Crusher" said, silencing the others. The speaker shifted in the ill-fitting body. "We have to get the timing right. When he's ready he'll make his moves on me, and then we'll get what we want." 

  
Q stepped onto the bridge five minutes before the Enterprise was about to arrive in Telmoc space. He was pale, but moved with strength and without hesitation, settling into Riker's seat with an almost haughty air. If he noticed that Riker had cleared the bridge of all but the command staff, he made no comment regarding it. 

"Everyone is ready," Q announced, looking at the viewscreen. "As long as you can continue to fly in a straight line for the next four and a half minutes, this should go well enough." 

"We'll do our best," Riker murmured 

Q grunted, not moving his eyes from the viewscreen even as Data announced that he was continuing the regulation scans and Austen noted she was having to make a slight course correction to account for a gravimetric wake. 

"Prepare to drop out of warp speed in thirty seconds," Riker said, his eyes fixed on the read-out of the captain's console. "Twenty seconds." He became aware of something more than tension, and it was concentrated in the form on his right. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up straight, and the air seemed to crackle. 

"Ten seconds," he announced. "Five, four, three, two, one." 

And the entire solar system exploded. 

  
Picard woke up from a dream that had something to do with rabbits, and something about scurrying away from...no, it was lost, and he let it go without regret. The novel from last night was to blame. He should know better than to read something Hanson recommended right before bed. 

Tossing back the covers, he raised his legs in an arc and let his feet slap the floor. His mind was recalling with some discomfort the events of yesterday. Grabbing his robe, he headed for the replicator and ordered coffee, only to hear: 

"Replicators have been taken off line by order of the Chief Medical Officer." 

"What? Picard to Dr. Crusher." 

"Here, Captain. Please come to Sickbay as soon as you can. We've had a problem with a virus in the food replicators." 

"A virus?" 

"A random mutation caused by a power overload. The system is being repaired and I've inoculated most of the crew. Ensign Cordel is heading up a team to pass out unreplicated coffee and bread from stores. He should be there shortly." 

"I'll see you in a few minutes, then, Doctor." 

He changed quickly into his gray-shirted uniform, and was just putting on the jacket when his door chimed. 

"Come." 

Cordel entered, a crewman at his arm, and though the ensign looked at him squarely and efficiently provided him with coffee and bread, the young man looked acutely uncomfortable. Picard did not stare, but there was something oddly disheveled about Cordel, something that reminded him of an early mission of this crew, a day of near disaster and ship-wide embarrassment. 

_The Tsiolkovsky Virus?_ Could something that...convenient explain yesterday? He felt hope shoot through him almost painfully, only its power allowing him to see how greatly he had been hoping for _some_ explanation. Data and Troi, then Worf's gaze and Riker...what could he really call the way Riker had behaved? Those blue eyes dancing in his face as he had seen them do before only when Riker was rather overtly maneuvering some woman into bed. Had he and the others been sick? 

But then, if Data had been affected...but then, Data did eat... 

Picard shook himself slightly, thanked Cordel and his assistant for breakfast, ate standing up, and then headed for Sickbay. 

Crusher was surrounded by almost her entire team as Picard came through the door. 

"...pass out to each one of them for the next five hours. We're dealing with something new and I don't want the slightest trace of it or its effects left on this ship by the end of Alpha Watch." The doctors and nurses around her nodded, and then Ogawa led most of the staff out the door, armed with hypos. 

"Jean-Luc," Crusher said quietly, "can I see you in my office?" 

He nodded and followed her into the partition. She turned, her features reflecting embarrassment. 

"The virus," he asked before she could speak, "it was like the one we encountered with the Tsiolkovsky?" 

"Not as life-threatening in the behavior it provokes, but it was a viral lifeform that left a toxin in the bloodstream -- or, in Data's case, in the circulatory system." She frowned, meeting his eyes with some difficulty. "In this instance it wasn't so much buried feelings being brought out as simply a stimulation of the entire procreative drive, or sex drive, actually, as gender didn't seem to be an issue even with those who have a gender preference. I don't know what all I may have said to you yesterday --" 

"Beverly, I promise you, you did nothing but invite me to dinner. I'm sure if I had not canceled on you, we would have continued on to do nothing more than talk." 

She looked as relieved as he himself had felt not long ago, and as he felt now, he found himself smiling broadly. "So horrified by the idea of making a pass?" he teased. 

She blinked slightly, then let herself flirt back just slightly, "Only afraid of making a virus-induced mess of it." 

They laughed in calm harmony. 

"At least this time I didn't unzip my uniform and flirt with you on the bridge." 

"We managed to avoid the scene with Wesley in Engineering as well," he said, his mind already compiling the list of diagnostics he would have his teams run to make sure no other damage had been done. 

Sensing that, she said quickly, efficiently, "There was only one affected replicator we're sure of so far, and it was in the officer's mess. Body contact spread it as well, but the exposure was not ship-wide. With a little more work, I'm going to be able to stamp "embarrassing but not bad" on this one." 

"I'll leave it in your capable hands, Doctor," he said easily. "And I'll be on the bridge." 

She nodded, smiling, and he left. In the corridors he nodded at several more of his crew, many of whom seemed quite unaffected and others who looked as though they wished to find a very dark cave and live in it for a year or two. 

The bridge looked and felt much the same. Worf nodded at him respectfully, and Riker stood up from the captain's chair with a somewhat rueful expression that quickly dissipated as he reported on the ship's status. 

The next several hours were completely uneventful. The ship was on its way at warp four to the Adralot Outpost on Havoll IV to deliver medical and technical supplies to the colonists there and was scheduled to arrive around the time of the start of Alpha Watch tomorrow. The diagnostics he wanted -- many of which Data and LaForge had initiated before he could order them -- were completed with satisfactory to excellent results. The replicators were given the all-clear just in time for lunch. 

"Come," he said not long after he had eaten, not looking up from the report in his hands. 

"Captain," Data's quiet voice called as the doors closed behind him. 

Picard looked up and saw, as he had expected, a look of android embarrassment on those pale, pronounced features. 

"Data," he said warmly, "it's all right." 

"Sir, like many others affected, I do not have a clear memory of what happened, but --" 

"Mr. Data, please, sit down and listen carefully." He waited until Data had done so, then smiled very calmly. "You expressed an interest in pursuing a relationship with me. That is all." 

"I did not attempt to touch you or make you uncomfortable in some other --" 

" _No,_ Data. You did not." The hand on the shoulder thing didn't count. 

It seemed to him that Data's slump of relief was particularly emotive for the android. His mimicry of Human behavior was really coming along. At a more appropriate moment, he would congratulate his second officer on the accomplishment. 

"I can assure you, sir," Data was saying now. "I harbor no secret longings --" 

"Data, please. This isn't necessary. I assure _you,_ I have no belief in any unrequited passion for me. I think I even understand the events of yesterday, having the perspective of having been the target of other people's maladies while experiencing none of my own." Thank _God_ for that! Otherwise, he would have woken up in Beverly's bed. A vision flashed suddenly of waking up in Riker's bed, then in Worf's, and he almost choked on the guffaw Data would not understand. "My patterns of behavior are familiar to you, and you knew, you must have known, however influenced you were, that I would not hurt or humiliate you. I should think the primary thing you and...others recognized was that I was safe. How can I resent that?" 

Data gave him a look he did not understand, some revelation sparkling in his yellow eyes, and then he simply nodded. 

"That is very understanding of you, sir." He stood up, and then looked up slightly at the sudden hail. 

"Riker to Picard. We're receiving a distress signal from the Adralot." 

Picard walked quickly onto the bridge. 

"...collapse of the energy field. If were not...his help...nothing but...children are safe, but repairs must be...not receiving..." 

"Can you clear that up, Mr. Worf?" 

"Trying, sir, but the power output of the signal is degrading. We're going to lose them." And indeed, even the static of the message faded. 

"Increase to top warp, Helm." 

"Aye, sir," the ensign responded, inputting the commands smoothly. 

"We won't reach there for another three hours," Riker said grimly. 

"Crusher to bridge. I could use some help preparing medical supplies." 

"I'm alerting Beta Watch now, Doctor," Riker said, deftly working his controls after a strange hesitation had almost moved his hand in the wrong direction. 

Troi walked on to the bridge and sat down. The captain couldn't help his double-take. 

"Is something wrong?" she asked steadily, though her eyes were apprehensive. 

"No, of course not," he told her. "It's just that I don't believe I've seen you in a standard uniform before." 

Her eyes flicked to Riker's, then back, and she seemed to have a moment of near-panic. Then she smiled a trifle self-consciously. "I suppose I'm feeling the need for a little standard militariness after yesterday. Consider it a personal experiment." 

Picard nodded in understanding and sent her an approving smile. Later, he would have to assure her about yesterday as he had already done for Data and Beverly, but for now, their attentions turned to being ready to aid the colonists. 

The main problem and focus of their concern was that the Adralot were a terraforming people who did not wait until the planet was finished before they "moved in." Instead, their method was to create a bio-dome and establish the colony as they worked outside the dome to refurbish the planet. This Adralot colony had not even gotten its permanent dome in place, and was relying on a massive system of force-fields to keep the hostile environment at bay. Evidently, the force-field generators had failed. If the failure were absolute, they might find no survivors. At last estimate, the colony's population had topped fourteen thousand. 

They reached the planet in a little under three hours, LaForge pushing the engines to the limit all the way. Once they powered down to sub-light, their sensors reassured them that the worst had not yet happened. 

"I am unable to determine what is allowing the force-fields to remain intact," Data reported from ops. "There seems to be no power coming from any of the three fusion generators." 

"I don't want to beam anyone down until we can determine what's powering those force-fields," Picard muttered to Riker, his unspoken _need_ to send people down evident regardless in his hazel eyes. 

Riker's reply was prevented as LaForge arrived on the bridge and went quickly to the captain's side. "I've localized the problem in the main generator, sir, and it's a simple matter of replacing their primary injection system. Working with the ship's transporters, those repairs should only take less than an hour." 

Picard shook his head worriedly, then snapped his attention to Worf when the lieutenant spoke. 

"Sir, I have established short-range communications with someone on the surface: a Lieutenant Julia Austen of Starfleet, assigned to the colony as a liaison officer." 

"On screen." 

They all turned to the main viewscreen, where a woman's face flickered into focus. Picard found himself thinking of the Mona Lisa, with the woman's dark brown hair, deep brown eyes and round, gentle face. A dark smudge on her cheek and her wildly disarranged hair, as well as a burnt patch on her Starfleet uniform, belied the calm expression which she had fixed almost woodenly on her features, and, when she spoke, there was evident a combination of weariness and relief. 

"Captain Picard, as you have doubtlessly seen, the damage from the main generator tripped just about every system we've got down here. We need a replacement of the entire primary injection system." 

"So my chief engineer informs me," Picard replied. "But I don't want to send anyone down until I understand why your force-fields are evidently functioning without a power source." 

A strangely awed look flitted across her calm face. "That's Q." 

"Q? An energy source?" 

"You could call him that," she said with a half-smile. "He just appeared right when most of us were saying our prayers. He's been holding the fields in place, but he won't fix the systems. I'm not sure, but I think he's helping us at some personal risk. He's here, sir. Though I doubt he'll come to the viewscreen." She looked around her, evidently distracted by someone's call, then, coughing on the slight smoke in the air, she looked directly at Picard, her voice growing determined. "Sir, I am the Starfleet officer assigned as liaison to this colony, and I assure you, I believe it will be perfectly safe for your crews to transport down." 

Picard held her gaze a moment, then nodded, and Riker called Crusher to begin transportation of her teams. LaForge left with a nod at both Riker and the captain, and hailed Engineering, gathering up Lefler and Barclay for his own away team. 

"I'll be beaming down as well to your location," Riker told Austen. 

She nodded, and smiled somewhat wryly. "You'll be welcome, sir. There's plenty to do." 

"I'll be beaming down shortly as well," Picard added, knowing it would have to be after the generators were operational again, but having confidence LaForge would be as good as his word. "I will wish to speak to this Q." 

"He'll be happy to meet you, I should think," she said gravely, then cut the connection. 

  
Picard took a few moments after transport, looking around the damaged colony site. Many of the Adralot took the opportunity to smile and nod at him, and he returned their greetings with genuine relief. The buildings were practical but aesthetically arranged and built along designs of functional grace. The few children he saw were obviously recovering from a scare, but looked exceptionally well-cared-for, their dark black skin shining slightly purple in the sunlight, and had even returned to cautious forms of play. 

"Captain Picard?" 

He turned at the familiar voice, and found himself looking at Lieutenant Austen without the courtesy of the viewscreen. She had cleaned and tidied herself somewhat, though there was little she could do about the black burns on her uniform. 

"Lieutenant." 

"It's good to meet you, sir," she said. "And if you'd like, there's someone who'd like to be introduced." 

He nodded and followed her into the building directly behind her. 

"I should warn you, sir. The Q have no set physical form, so it's their custom to take on the appearance of the people they're dealing with." 

"Are they like the Organians?" 

"Much more powerful, sir." 

Picard let that sink in a moment. "Q looks Adralotian, then?" 

"Human, actually. He's been staying away from the Adralot. Says he doesn't want to contaminate their civilization." Her voice dropped slightly. "I get the very strong impression he wasn't supposed to help us at all, sir." 

"Any other warnings?" he asked quickly. She was now leading them to a large door at the end of a small hallway off the main corridor, and he had the impression Q was behind it. 

"He's dressed as a Starfleet captain. I'm not sure, but I think it's meant as a sign of respect." 

Picard raised his eyebrows, but had no time for further comment as she opened the door and he found a sparsely furnished room beyond it. Sitting in a chair, his head cradled in his hands, was a dark-haired man who would probably be tall when he stood up, dressed in the red and black of a Starfleet uniform. 

"Are you all right?" Austen asked in alarm. 

The man -- Q, Picard could only suppose -- looked up, and his eyes were a fascinating blend of dark brown color and sparkling curiosity. They looked him over with blatant interest, and yet his smile was polite, even cordial. 

"I'm fine." He stood and looked down at Picard, and the captain felt a strange...something in the pit of his stomach. It occurred to him that the inoculatant Beverly had given him against the replicator virus might have left him a little unsettled. "And you must be Captain Picard." 

"I'm deeply indebted to you for the protection you have afforded these people," he said. "Their lives would doubtlessly have been lost senselessly if not for your assistance." 

"Shhhh!" Q admonished him, his eyes alight with mischief. "Not so loud." 

"Then your assistance comes at the price of disobedience to your people's customs?" 

"You're so formal, Jean-Luc," Q said, sparkling, and the captain realized he was almost on the verge of blushing. The Q evidently did not stand much on formality. 

"If you don't need me anymore," Austen said, smiling almost indulgently and sending Q a look of unmistakable support, "I'm going to join the elders in Sector 18. They're haggling with Commander LaForge about what constitutes a 'satisfactory' repair time. And don't let Q distract you, Captain. He's in hot water now with the Continuum, no question." 

With that, she left, and Picard turned back to the tall, dark entity, who shrugged. "We don't really have rules, Captain, in the Continuum -- my people's name for our community -- but we do have guidelines. I'm afraid I've had to watch more than a few hundred civilizations go down the Armageddon tubes. But it just suddenly seemed so pointless. It was a very minor flaw in the Adralot power relay, a bit of bad luck, that threw out the generator system. I just provided an alternate power supply until the cavalry rode over the hill." 

"You seem to know quite a lot about Earth culture," Picard remarked. 

"My people have been interested in Humanity for some time," Q said easily. "In fact, your kind and my kind have had a number of encounters." 

"You're not about to tell me you're really Apollo, are you?" 

Q laughed. "And make you like your predecessor, Captain Kirk? No, Apollo is dead, along with Adonis and the rest of his little gang. We Q try to stay out of internal affairs. Though, I must admit, I wouldn't have minded being the subject of an ode or two by Shelley and his compadres." 

Picard had to sift through that a bit. "We Humans try to stay out of the affairs of others as well, though I see both species have realized the temptation of charity." 

Q grinned ruefully. "It is tempting, isn't it? When I saw the force-field slipping, I simply became disgusted with the waste of it. Can you understand that I couldn't just watch?" 

"All too well." 

Picard felt suddenly that he didn't know what to do with his hands. Frowning internally, he kept them at his sides, asking, "Will you be leaving the planet soon?" 

"Here's your hat, what's your hurry?" Q pouted slightly. 

"Um, no. Actually, I was going to ask you if you'd be willing to join me for dinner." 

Q's eyebrows shot up. Then he smiled, and Picard couldn't take his eyes off the sight of it. "As long as you mean dinner in your quarters, what time?" 

"Say...1800?" 

"See you there," Q said, his voice deeply caressing. And then he snapped his fingers, and was gone in an oddly fanciful burst of white light. 

Picard laughed. He couldn't help it. _I don't know what you are, Q, but I can't wait to find out._

He left the room and found LaForge in the auxiliary control room. The rest of the daylight was spent cataloging the needs of the colonists and waiting for dinner time. 

Well before 1800, Picard found himself showered and shaved and standing in the middle of his room in a fresh uniform. He was, he realized, dithering. The possibilities for discovery that Q offered were frankly provocative, the idea of having first official contact with such an advanced species was intoxicating, and he was behaving like a first-year cadet before his first exam. Picard made himself calm down. He got a cup of tea and grabbed a book from his "to read" shelf. Soon, he found himself lost in the sacrifice of the Cardassian patriarch, and he almost stopped paying attention to the dragging of time. 

  
“Are you sure a medical stimulant couldn't help?" 

"Will you please stop trying to drug me?" 

"She's got a point, Q. If you're going to act like a Human, you might as well be treated like one." 

"Oh, what do you know about anything anyway?" 

"Priceless repartee." 

Riker met Crusher's eyes and felt their shared frustration with the two Qs who stood in his replicated quarters. 

The female Q had been more than a small surprise. After the command crew had passed through that fiery white nothingness which had resulted in Q and the Continuum's destruction of the proto-world formed by the renegade Qs, Riker and the rest of the command crew had found themselves standing in a sort of blank white space. Several minutes had passed before Q had arrived, looking murderous. He had announced that the Qs in question had been "rounded up," and assigned to their incarcerations. And then the female Q, statuesque and somehow much more condescending and petulant than Q had ever been, had arrived and demanded to know if "Picard's underlings" were going to help them. 

Agreement had led to the peculiar day, acting in the Q's Enterprise-D scenario, pretending to redo the same sort of assignments they'd had years ago, trying to figure out how much of history had been revised, trying not to get too creeped out by the fantasy versions of Worf, and the rest. The worst of it had involved apologizing to the captain for "their" indiscretions of the day before and worrying helplessly about the damage Q and Picard were both suffering, one from the lost of his essence, and the other from the loss of his memories, and with them, himself. 

And now their roles were probably over, as Q wouldn't last long enough to require a second day of this, and they had been told by the female Q that the Continuum considered its work finished. 

"You're the one leading the show here, Q," she said now with an appalled sneer, as if merely being in this place were offensive to her. "Is he going for it, or not?" 

"He's asked me to dinner. That's hardly an invitation to drink in the energy of his soul." 

"But it's your energy!" 

"He doesn't know that, does he? What do you want me to do? Rape him the way that they would have?" 

Austen cleared her throat noisily. "I had no idea, you know that?" 

Everyone looked at her. 

"I didn't realize how greatly changed he'd be." 

"That's right," Riker said, jumping in gratefully. "You didn't know him before he and Q got together." 

She shook her head. "He seems so...lonely. I would never have thought it. He's completely unaware of what he doesn't have, and he's still incredibly splendid, but when I compare him to the captain I've known for the past year, there's just no contest. It was all I could do not to scream at him and point at you," for she was now speaking directly to Q: "'There's what you want! That's what you're looking for! Grab him!'" She laughed to make her point. "The other Q, the Q you've punished, they were looking for what you and Captain Picard created between the two of you, as though it could be stolen or recreated at will. Right?" 

Q nodded. 

"Have they destroyed it?" she asked. "Do you even know if you can get it back?" 

The female Q stared at this Human while the father of her child stood there, gaping in his misery, and contemplated turning the creature into a pile of dust. She herself was merely waiting for this unpleasant moment to pass, but Q, the partner to her existence for an eternity beyond the imagining of these little monkeys, had been absolutely captivated by her drivel. What was there to question? A Q could do _anything._ Anything, anyway, that a Human could imagine. 

And then Q found herself looking a little more deeply at this creature who steered Picard's tin can, and she saw something there, an intelligence beyond what she expected, and frowned to herself. Was there something she'd missed here? Was it possible that -- what's her name? Austen -- understood something she did not? 

"There are so many things to consider," Q was saying at last. "And wondering about what might happen won't help." Without warning, he posed fetchingly and drawled, "And now, I believe it's time for my date." He flashed out then, leaving an almost Cheshire-cat grin behind for the others to chuckle over. And they would have, had not the female Q prevented it with her haughty gaze. 

"The Qs are incarcerated," she repeated, wondering if they even understood the concept. "And Q can either find a way to retrieve his life force from your captain, or he can waste away in this left-over reality. I have a child and responsibilities to the Continuum to concern myself with." And with that, the tall, red-haired Q with scornful eyes snapped her fingers and was gone. 

Riker, Troi, Data, Crusher, LaForge, and Austen regarded each other for a moment. There was nothing left for them to do now but wait. If Q failed, then this scenario would disappear, and they and their impaired captain would be returned to their ship to calculate the true level of damage. If he succeeded... 

"Well," Riker said, shrugging. "We're on the Enterprise-D, so I think I know where we can find a drink." 

The others nodded, though Austen had to guess what he meant, and then they headed for the door and down the hall to the turbolift. 

"She'll be back, you know," Troi said, stepping inside the lift and right against her fiancé. She smiled as his arm went around her in a way that was both quite suitable for public appearances and yet satisfactorily possessive. 

"Really?" Crusher asked. 

Troi's eyes twinkled. "I'm afraid so. Julia's caught her attention, I think. If I read my Qs correctly." 

Austen guffawed, then shook her head as the lift doors opened and they all stepped out. Some jokes were better left unanswered. 

LaForge shook his head as well. "I don't know," he complained. "We should be worried out of our minds. If Q dies, Captain Picard...at the very least he's never going to forgive us. At the worst..." He sighed in frustration, although he knew the others understood him. "Why aren't we...I don't know." 

"There is a point at which Humans employ a defensive 'wait and see' attitude," Data remarked. 

"Is that it?" Crusher wondered as the doors to Ten Forward opened and they all headed for the real alcohol behind the bar, though Austen was looking around with some curiosity. "Or is it that we simply can't imagine the consequences if this doesn't work?" 

Riker nodded, grabbed a bottle of brandy, and wound up not opening it, his hands lying flat on the glowing surface of the bar. The others waited for him to speak. 

"It was so much easier," he said at last, "when we all hated him." 

  
Picard heard his door chime and felt his heart skip. 

_Good lord, what's wrong with me?_

"Come." 

A flash in the middle of the room, and then the dark-haired entity stood there, smiling faintly. 

Picard did look different. Austen had been right about that. This alternate universe the Qs had made excluded the Q and the Borg and quite a bit else as well. This Picard had never been tortured by the Cardassians, or known the bittersweet honor of knowing Kamala. This was a softer, more malleable version of his husband, his memories arranged so that the Qs would find it easier to pressure Jean-Luc into acting on his feelings for Beverly, or whichever among his command staff they managed to get in his bed. 

Objectively speaking, Q found it incomprehensible how ignorantly the Qs had acted. Even when Q was mimicking ancient Human forms of address and dragging Picard and his lackeys into that 21st Century court, he had understood Humanity better. For the first time, Q truly felt the absurdity of his species' arrogance. Knowing all that had come before did not mean one knew all that lay ahead, however much one's experiences seemed a confirmation of one's cynicism. He felt an almost Human impulse to write a paper. 

"Well, it's good to be see you again," Picard said, moving somewhat self-consciously to the table where he had a plate of finger foods ready. "I must admit to being quite curious about you and your species. I've checked Starfleet's database, and there's nothing about any of you." 

_He hasn't even kissed a man yet. Why didn't I appear as a woman? That would have helped._ But the answer was obvious. He was _this_ version of himself. He was Jean-Luc's husband, not his wife. His relationship with Jean-Luc was as much defined by their homosexuality as it was by any other part of themselves. 

Q was greedy, he admitted to himself. He wanted it all back. 

"We've been careful," Q said aloud, "and kept our activities quiet. I know this may be unsettling for you, but think of your own Federation observations on developing worlds. You watch, and then, when the moment is right, you introduce yourselves." 

"And so the moment is right now?" 

"Right now?" Q teased, purposefully misconstruing. "Well, not _right_ now." 

Picard smiled somewhat tightly, but his skin was tinged slightly pink. "I've broken out some of my store of caviar. It's a Human indulgence, but --" 

"Delightful," Q finished, stepping up to the table to dip into the finger bowl with a small cracker and raising the delicacy to his lips with a little sigh. Knowing Picard was watching him, he smacked it up and reached for another. "I'll eat the whole bowl, I'm afraid, if you don't help me." 

Picard moved forward, took his own portion on a cracker, and ate it with just a little difficulty in swallowing. 

Q realized he had a plan in mind now, an approach to take advantage of Picard's receptivity, and felt himself relax. Either his plan -- that is, throwing himself into Picard's arms and showing the captain what he was missing -- would succeed, and he would live forever in bliss, or he would fail and die. The decision was quite Human; the understanding of the scope of his success or failure was pure Q. 

"Are there restrictions on what you can tell me of your people?" Jean-Luc asked. 

"As I said before, we don't really have restrictions, so much as guidelines. Considering our individual power, we have no real hierarchy to enforce power on others absolutely. Instead, we understand certain general principles which hopefully prevent us from wreaking havoc on other races." 

"I imagine the need for such a policy --" 

"You have a beautiful form," Q said, his hand holding a caviar-laden cracker half-way to his mouth. "I've seen very little in the universe to match its aesthetic value." Then he ate the caviar, the cracker crunching rather noisily in his mouth. 

Picard blinked at him, then managed, "Thank you." 

Q let his eyes rake the man's body. "The pleasure is all mine." 

So there it was, Picard thought as he made a fuss about opening a bottle of wine for the occasion. This extremely powerful entity was making a play for him, overtly, without embarrassment or the games his virus-influenced crew had played the day before. No "let me help you" or "I wish to pursue" or invitations to formal dinners. Picard was absolutely certain that if he turned and threw himself into this creature's arms, there would be very little to say at all. 

He had had no one in his life for so long now, he almost couldn't believe that this had truly been his life. How had he gone so long without turning to anyone, through so many missions? Had he been dead, or sleeping? When he looked now at the light in Q's dark hair, the revelation came that he had been lonely much longer than he should ever have permitted. 

"Your form," he asked, looking into Q's face almost brazenly. "Does it reflect you? Are you in any way truly what I see?" 

"I am exactly what you see," Q said, his full lips curving into a smile that made Picard feel light-headed. "Right now, this is all I am." 

Picard set down the wine glass he'd been using as nothing more than a prop and took Q's hands. The entity looked at him as though his touch made him drunk with pleasure, and Jean-Luc stepped forward into his embrace and turned his face up. He had no idea why alarm bells had been ringing in his head the second he saw Q, but he was going to find out if the insistent urges of his body would be fulfilled as sweetly as they promised. After all, if the kiss were no good, he could always... 

_Ohhhhh._ The kiss was good. Very, very good. Q's powers evidently included expertise in this area, for he felt himself pressed by strong arms against the Q's nicely firm chest as those warm, full lips came down on his and proceeded to excite his entire body with the application of perfect pressure. He found his own arms had come up and around Q's broad shoulders, and he began to lose perfect communication with his fingers and toes. 

"Very nice," Jean-Luc murmured when they broke gently for air. 

But Q's body tensed, and Picard found himself looking up into almost angry eyes. As he stared back, puzzled, those dark eyes closed, then opened, and instead of angry, Q seemed simply defeated. 

"I can't do this," Q said, releasing him and stepping back. 

"Oh." Picard thought a moment, when he could think. "Well, I certainly wouldn't want you to get into further trouble with the Continuum on my behalf." 

Q's eyes narrowed, but they were still sad. "No, Jean-Luc, that isn't what I mean." He snorted suddenly. "Look at you, like some child version of yourself. You're almost not to be recognized. I can't take advantage of that, even if you do 'really' love me." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"I'm saying I don't care if I can justify this, if I have some sort of 'right' to take you under false pretenses. You've been injured so badly, Jean-Luc. They've taken so much from you. I can't take more. I can't be like them." Q seemed to lose more of his bearing with each word, and finally sat on Picard's sofa, resting his head on his hands, staring at the floor. 

Picard thought about getting angry, and realized he wasn't. But then, he didn't have much of a temper, or did he? 

Wait, he was a starship captain. How could he not have a temper? 

"A child version of myself?" 

Q nodded, still looking at the floor. Picard noticed that his guest looked very tired. 

"Are you all right?" 

Q snorted a laugh. "No, I'm not, actually. Q and Q gave me a bit of an infusion, much to my surprise, but it was only energy, not essence. I can feel it starting to wear off." 

"Q, explain yourself. Should I get Dr. Crusher?" 

Q laughed again, then looked up, and from him, somehow, Picard felt a sort of cold desperation. It was an odd experience, as though he had suddenly become empathic, and it filled him with concern. 

"Isn't there anything I can do?" 

Q's eyes widened and he laughed again. "I don't know what to do. There's no possibility in the universe that you'd believe the truth, but I can't lie to you. That would seem to leave me hanging a bit." 

"What truth?" 

Q sighed, and something about the sight of it made Picard's chest tighten. 

"Q, have we met before?" 

The brown eyes grew suddenly keen. "What makes you say that?" 

"I just...have the feeling..." 

Q stood up, advanced towards him. "What feeling?" 

Picard backed off. "I don't know." 

Q stood there, looking around. "All right, all right." He seemed to calming himself more than Picard. "Look, what would you say if I told you that this ship was destroyed years ago? You, Captain Jean-Luc Picard, now command the Enterprise-E, with your command crew almost completely intact. You've twice saved Humanity from a species known as the Borg. You've been captured and tortured -- but not broken -- by Cardassians. You've traveled to Romulus and met Ambassador Spock, who now runs a Romulan underground. You've saved billions upon billions of lives and several worlds through courage and fortitude almost beyond Human capacity, and I, Q, have been desperately in love with you since not long after we met ten years ago near Farpoint Station." 

Picard simply watched him now, his face neither accepting nor rejecting. Q took a breath and continued: 

"By a miracle I personally do not understand at all. You love me back. We never really did have a wedding, but we're bonded, mated, married, whatever you want to call it. We spend our days making love and sharing our lives, even though I don't interfere with your command and I have several of my own projects going, some of which you kindly don't ask about." 

"And the reason I remember none of this?" 

"We were attacked, you were abducted, by five of my fellow Q who are not a part of the Continuum. They wanted what I had." Q paused, searching for better words. 

"Me, you mean?" 

"You, and what we share. They concocted this scenario, including your erased memories of me and your own best accomplishments -- and most difficult trials -- so that they could arrange to involve you willingly in a relationship with one of them." 

"Beverly," Picard said with enlightenment. "Data and Troi and Riker and Worf. Those attempts to seduce me weren't a part of some virus out of the replicator. My officers were Qs, weren't they, trying to get at me?" 

Q stared at him. "You mean you're actually buying this?" 

Picard raised his eyebrows. "Shouldn't I? Your explanation is certainly making sense of many things. However, why did they retreat? Did you coerce them into behaving today?" 

"No, those really are your officers, today. Except for Worf, who's on Deep Space Station Nine, now, and married to this Trill of whom you greatly approve. Austen's one of yours now, as well. Your pilot." 

"Where's Wesley?" 

Q looked a little uncertain. "Well, he left the Academy out of boredom and now he's traveling around with the entity you call 'The Traveler.' He's actually doing very well in his new studies, for a Human." 

Picard's face registered blinking surprise, his eyes on Q's nervous waiting. "So, rescuing the colonists wasn't real?" 

"No," Q said stolidly. "Though I've done that sort of thing before, honestly. There was a time in my life when I was rather fanatical about it, but, time went by. I got more than a little cynical -- worse than cynical, even. And then, well, I met you. You've become everything to me, but your ideals of non-interference have prevented me from falling back into that sort of thing, although, I admit..." Q squirmed. "I have been helping people out a bit more than I should." 

Picard realized he was smiling and got rid of his own expression with his next words. "So, my people willingly helped you to deceive me in an effort to make you look good to me so that you could...what? Get me into bed?" 

"It's a bit more than that, I'm afraid." Q raked a hand through his hair in a fiercely controlled gesture that oddly reminded Picard of himself. 

"More?" 

"We've been together two years and, with your permission, I've been making you immortal," Q said. "Which means I've been giving you transfusions of my own essence. When we join, I get it back, reintegrate it, then pass the refreshed essence back to you. Rather like the Q version of mouth-to-mouth." 

Picard did not answer Q's tentative smile. 

"When we were separated, I lost access to my own lifeforce. What with all the power I've needed to battle with the Qs who took you, I've been...um, not doing well." Picard didn't comment. "I'm dying, actually." 

Picard frowned. "You actually expect me to believe that having sex with me will save your life?" 

"I don't expect you to believe any of this. And it's a hell of a lot more than sex we're talking about. We don't even have to do that part, although...we always do." 

Picard found he couldn't look at that mixture of hope and despair any longer without great discomfort. He walked over to the window of his quarters and stared out a long while, acutely aware of the presence behind him. 

"I have no way of verifying or disproving anything you've said," he announced at last. "I could ask you to have my people come in here and say they helped you and why, but I'm sure you're quite capable of making up versions of my crew who could say anything you liked." 

"Yes, I am." 

Picard turned. "Are you also capable of making me do whatever you like with or without my consent?" 

"I...have the power for it. But I'm not capable, Jean-Luc." 

"Explain." 

Q shrugged, sitting wearily on the couch again. "I just couldn't do that to you. I can't force you, rape you like that." 

Picard frowned again. "You could prove that, I suppose." 

Q frowned back. "I _am,_ I should think." 

"No, I mean you could prove that you could make me do things I don't want." 

"I suppose." 

"Then do it, please. Something small, I mean." 

"Like what?" 

Picard looked around the room. "Make me drink from my wineglass." He crossed his arms and stood resolutely. Q looked at the glass, and suddenly, Picard wanted to drink from it desperately. He crossed the room in four strides, grabbed the glass, and took a swallow. Then the impulse completely disappeared. He set the glass down with astonishment, aware only now that it was over that he hadn't done it of his own free will, and looked at Q, who made a small nodding bow. 

"Impressive." 

Q shrugged. 

"Seriously. You make a good case, Q." 

Q shook his head. "You're not yourself." 

"Meaning?" 

"The 'real' Picard wouldn't listen to me like this. You'd demand proof, keep me at arms' reach, call in your people and trust them even if they might be contaminated, before you'd ever trust me." Q laughed. "You don't remember the years it took me to get on your good side. I did so many songs and dances. And then, it was nine years after Farpoint, you finally let me in." 

"Why?" 

"I told you," Q said glumly. "You loved me." 

"No, I mean. What _exactly_ happened? What did we do?" 

"You really know how to torture a guy," Q pouted. Picard found himself reacting again to that expression. "I showed up and asked you on a walk in a garden. You said yes. I couldn't believe it. We walked and we talked and then we went to the same garden another time, and you let me massage your feet. And then we argued. We were always arguing." Picard easily felt the fondness in Q's tone. "And then I took you to this room I...had ready. And then I knelt down so you'd see I was serious." 

"You knelt down? Before me, you mean?" 

"Hell, I'll do it now," Q said with another shrug. "It was damn hard at the time, though. And then I kissed you." 

"While you were still kneeling?" Picard asked, his tone almost teasing. He realized he was feeling very slightly euphoric. 

Q's eyes picked up the man's tone. "It wasn't on your mouth." 

Darkly arched brows rose again. "I see." 

"And then, you finally let me touch you," Q finished. 

"Was it in a white room?" 

Q was off the sofa and walking towards him again. Up against the wall, Picard couldn't back away. 

"You remember that?" Q demanded. 

Picard held up a hand and Q was still. "I remember something very faint, a white room, that seems somehow connected to you. Other things you've said seemed familiar as well. The Romulan underground and Ambassador Spock. And I definitely recognize the name 'Borg.' It seems connected to someone named...Locutus?" 

Q nodded gravely. 

"And...a woman...named Lily?" 

Another nod. 

Picard looked at Q, and found he simply hated what he saw. Those dark eyes were bloodshot, his skin an unhealthy pallor, his posture weary and yet incredibly tense. He wanted to see Q stride around and make cracks, pout and...oh, yes. He very much wanted to see Q naked. 

"I take it I'm resisting the memory losses inflicted upon me by your fellow Qs because of the Q-essence I myself possess, your essence, inside me." 

"Yes, Jean-Luc. Although, I didn't realize you would be, I'm not too surprised that you are." 

Picard felt pleasure in hearing his name on Q's lips. He felt there was a lot of pleasure in hearing and feeling those lips do all sorts of things. 

"But if I loved you, how could I ever have endangered you by taking your essence in the first place? I simply cannot see myself putting someone I loved in that kind of peril." 

Q smiled and shook his head just slightly. "Because you knew that if you didn't, I would get the Continuum to take my powers away and live with you as a mortal." 

"But if you can live as a mortal, why are you going to die right now -- and I take it we've got very little time left here, from the look of you -- if you don't get your Q energy back?" 

"Because it's more than energy. It's _me._ " 

Picard took in a breath, held it, oddly excited by the idea that he was carrying part of Q inside him. "All right, taking everything you've said so far as true, why did you lie to me in the first place? Why continue the charade?" 

"Because we only had one shot at this, and because...it worked before." 

"I've been abducted before?" 

"No, no. You and I were part of this experiment for the Continuum; we agreed to it so they'd leave us alone. They took our memories and we were just these two strangers camping in the woods together, and it wasn't twenty-four hours before we were all over each other." 

Picard smiled. "That I can believe." 

"You mean, you believe any of this?" 

Q looked so dazed and lost that Picard wanted to snarl. He thought again of the white room, and felt once more that something was trying to keep him from remembering something incredibly precious. He struggled with it, walking up to Q, feeling his warmth, breathing in the familiar scent of him. 

And then he dropped to his knees and kissed Q gently but firmly between his long, trembling legs. 

Q groaned and almost fell on top of him as he sank to the floor. Picard grabbed his shoulders and they were kissing again and it was so incredibly good Jean-Luc felt he could devour Q whole. His mouth was certainly open widely enough for it, some amused part of his mind commented, for he had thrust his tongue deeply into Q's mouth to explore his sweetness. Q's hands were all over him, and he felt very nimble fingers lifting up the top of his uniform. Then Q was laughing, and he raised his head. 

"Sorry," Q said breathlessly. "I've just never gotten to strip you out of one of these before. So much more convenient than the one-pieces you've taken to wearing again." 

"Not those tight little jumpsuits?" Picard groaned, his head falling back as Q rolled them over on the floor and began exploring his neck with those lips. 

_No, unfortunately._

Picard stiffened and grabbed Q's arms. 

"What?" Q demanded, then winced. "Oh, sorry." 

"You spoke...in my mind." 

"Yes, sorry, we do that all the time. I forgot." 

Picard's eyes darkened with apprehension. "This joining that you need, it will be even more intimate than that, won't it?" 

Q nodded. "I'm sorry." 

But Picard shook himself and grabbed the back of Q's neck to draw him down for another kiss. He tried to form the words in his mind: _Can you hear me?_

_Yes._ Q lolled slightly, his lips losing their place in their expert nibblings. _Ohhh. I'd forgotten how good your thoughts feel._

_Yours feel wonderful as well._ They touched each other with growing confidence, and then Picard was raising up Q's uniform, dragging the tank underneath out of the way, running his fingertips lightly over warm, soft skin. Didn't he remember this? Either way, it was lovely. 

Q pulled away from him enough to get both of them bare from the waist up, then leaned down to press their chests together. Picard moaned and moved against him, suddenly aware that he had a raging erection even as he felt Q's swelling pressure against his hip. 

_What do you need me to do? Tell me._

_Whatever you want. Just let me touch you._

_But...Oh, God. That feels so good. Mentally, what's the procedure?_

Q was puzzled, though since Picard couldn't see his face right that moment, he wasn't sure how he knew that, and then the puzzlement turned to bleak. Again, Picard felt that rush of icy cold. _Oh no. I was hoping it would be instinctive. I can't...It took so long to teach you..._

_Don't you have a crash course?_

Q broke away, pushing himself up on his arms as they straddled the half-naked man below him. "No. I don't." 

Picard endured the rush of frustration that came with the loss of bodily contact with Q, then stared fiercely. "Then just do what you do and I'll follow along." 

But Q was pulling away now, sitting up and away from him. "I didn't realize. Jean-Luc, this could hurt you. We have to stop." 

"Stop?" Picard felt dimly furious. "Won't that mean you'll die?" 

Q's eyes glittered, and Jean-Luc thought his heart was going to explode, it was beating so fast. As if sensing his thoughts, which he very likely was, Q's eyes went to Picard's chest. 

"It's not even the mechanical one." 

"What?" 

"The 'real' you has a mechanical heart." 

And now Picard did snarl, violently, as he simply tackled Q, forcing the startled entity on his back and holding him down with his weight as he ground his erection against Q's and watched his eyes cloud with desire. "This _is_ the real me! And I want you so badly I can't think!" He ground his lips now against Q's own, reveling in the rough, perfect pleasure of it. _Now hurry up and join with me. You don't want to hurt me? Watching you die would be the worst possible injury, I suspect._

_So brave,_ Q whispered in his mind. _You're always so brave._

_And you're not? Now, what comes next? Can you just snap your fingers and get rid of these uniforms?_

_Ordinarily, that's just what I do, but I'm trying to conserve myself here._

"In that case..." Picard said with a wicked smile that made Q groan. The man separated them enough to pull off Q's boots and socks, then his pants and his underwear. Q's flushed and straining cock sprang free of the material, and Picard smiled now very wickedly indeed. "I seem to have a memory of this," he murmured, reaching down to place a gentle kiss on the swaying tip. And indeed, this was all pleasantly familiar, the warmth, the smell, the incredibly silky feel of his lover against his lips. 

Q's whole body undulated at the sensation. "Jean-Luc," he groaned, "how I've missed you touching me." 

_My poor Q,_ Picard thought without mockery into the entity's mind. He was getting his own clothes off now, trying to think of practical matters. This would doubtlessly work better on the bed, and... _We need lubricant._

"Oh! Are you going to fuck me?" 

"Do you want me to?" 

Q's eyes closed as he moaned again, and Picard watched those long legs bend and pull back against Q's chest. The resultingly vulnerable position squeezed his chest, and he forgot about practicalities as he fell across Q, his pants still tangled around his ankles, and kissed him frantically. Q kissed back, his body moving against him, trying to encourage him inside. Picard tried to relax and let his half-memories take over, but he fumbled before he could guide himself to Q's opening, using his thumb to rub the copious precum over the head and up the sides. He was going to use his fingers next to prepare the way, but Q took over from there, grabbing his buttocks and helping him thrust inside. That tight heat made Picard groan now as loudly as Q was doing, and for a time he simply moved inside, back and forth, filling Q as he himself was filled with incredible pleasure. 

But then, he reached for Q's mind, some instinct showing him how, and felt nothing more than he had before. 

He stopped thrusting and Q whimpered, his eyes cracking open. 

_Open up, Q. Take my mind in yours._

_I might hurt you,_ Q protested. _I almost did before, and that's when you'd had time to prepare._

_So, what is this, a mercy fuck before you waste away? You need what I have. Take it!_

But Q's mind seemed to fall back from him, and for the first time Picard tasted the mortality of him, felt the onrushing weakness, knew there was little time left. 

Anger and a slowly growing horror combined frantically, and Picard found himself forcing the memories out, using whatever Q power he did possess to fight the bonds he could now almost see in his own mind. Something broke, and he was remembering a torch-lit garden and a troop of non-Human dancers. Another burst of memories brought out something about a terrible battle at Wolf 359. Another and then another and then finally another explosion of thoughts and images occurred in his mind before he had what he needed. 

Rearing back, he thrust hard into Q's body and rode the wave of pleasure it created deeply into Q's mind. The entity struggled, but his weakened state put up little resistance. 

He continued to thrust, using his fingertips to twist Q's nipples just the way Q liked even as he reached his mouth down to Q's long neck and sucked on those spots which drove his husband insane. Q was thrashing around now, and Picard heard material ripping as he finally got his legs free of his trousers and was able to bring up his legs for better leverage. He was driving into Q frantically now, assured Q loved the pain of it, and listened to him scream encouragements to go in harder and faster. 

Inside Q's mind, he was dropping his own barriers frantically, using the knowledge he was dragging out from the unlocked depths of his mind the second it was available. And still Q was resisting, weakly, terrified of hurting Jean-Luc. Finally, Picard's anger and skills reached the point where he simply held Q's mind open and poised himself at that opening. 

_Don't make it rape,_ he pleaded. _Please, love, don't fight me anymore._

Q's eyes opened, fixing on his. _Slowly. You need to go slowly._

Picard nodded and then poured himself inside, feeling the essence Q needed emptying from him. The power of it was incredible, and he knew now the annihilation it could bring him if he didn't direct it exactly. This hadn't been a problem before, as this exchange had happened in the past when they were One. But now, Picard knew Q's concerns had been quite valid. He remembered now that Q had never hurt him, not in a way that couldn't be forgiven -- Locutus being the worst of it and a sore body being the best -- and he knew he would die before he hurt Q. 

So greatly had Q been weakened that it was only when almost all of his essence had been returned that he began to revive. Picard gloried in the feel of that strength in the mind which was coming up to envelop his even as his surrounded Q's. He felt the strength in the body he was buried inside as well, and suddenly the physical urgency returned. He began to thrust unto the heat of his lover's body as Q rocked up to meet him, spread out wide under Picard's hungry eyes, groaning with him, reaching for the climax that would make them One. 

And now it was Picard's turn to be tended, to have every last memory restored to its place. Together, united, they rushed through their entire relationship, acknowledging the Borg and Cardassian incidents almost in passing, and the rush of the return to full strength of his love battered Picard until he was afraid he would die after all, this time of shame. 

_How could I let them take this from me?_

_Don't you dare blame yourself! There were five of them!_

_Oh God. I've missed you. Oh, I'm fucking you. Oh, merde. You feel so good. I love you so much._

_And I love you, Jean-Luc. I always will. Now, hang on._

Curious, smiling at the thought that sex with Q always brought something new, the man who accepted that he was becoming more than a man watched as Q stretched out his mind. They were warm and connected, but left the details of their physical forms behind as Q's strength easily took them out beyond this room. Picard thought first of his people, and in a moment he and Q were snickering shamelessly. Troi, overcome with what she was picking up from them, was all but ravishing Riker in Guinan's room behind the bar, and the others, taking this as a sign of success, were all getting sloppy drunk, except for Data, who was simply watching the proceedings with amusement. Leaving his officers' privacy as intact as possible, they sped on out through the layers of this false ship, out through the pocket of non-place the Qs had made. 

They contacted Q just enough to let her know that Q was okay, and were surprised when she allowed them to feel her relief. Then they went far beyond the reaches of Picard's galaxy to see the five comets streaking through the empty void to an eternity of nothingness. Dimly, Q knew the Continuum would eventually have to deal with those Q, but a cooling-off period was a good idea. Perhaps a million years or so. Picard was aware of an enormous satisfaction that Q did not allow him to deny. 

And then Q turned them towards Earth. 

_Q! No! You can't!_

_Sorry, Jean-Luc,_ Q thought, his insincerity plain, as they headed towards Starfleet Command. Mouthpiece Gorenne he left alone, but there were some very interesting files on Harrison and Van Jos concerning misconduct in the field that Q arranged to have a computer glitch send to the right places. 

_Put those back!_ Picard ordered, his own insincerity plain. Indeed, part of him was more outraged by what he'd seen in those files than anything which had happened at the hearing -- the real or fake one. 

With a chuckle of contentment, Q returned them now to the room where his husband was fucking him. And as both of them prepared to let the final boundaries fall away, Q knew he had to ask, had to offer: 

_Are you ready for the rest yet, Jean-Luc? Do you want my powers as well?_

_No,_ the man replied fervently. _Not yet. Not, I believe, for a very long time._

Q nodded, and then they were back inside themselves, preparing for that different sort of joining, the creation of Picard/Q where all was shared and there was no Other. Picard felt the sweat on his body, the burn of his muscles, the indescribably lovely sensation of being against and inside his husband, and laughed aloud before he reached down to plunder Q's sweetly luscious mouth. Q raked his hands over Jean-Luc's buttocks and then plunged a slick finger almost roughly inside him, wanting him to shudder and moan in his distinctly Human fashion. He wasn't disappointed. 

The man wrapped a strong hand around Q's cock and stroked as he thrust, the pleasure filling them both now without check, taking them right where they wanted to be. When finally Picard/Q felt that tangible release into and over their bodies, there were no more words or wounds, no more doubts or loss, nothing any longer but pure love and its attendant joy. 

  
THE END 

And that’s the last of them. :-)


End file.
